SAYINGS, 


WISE  AND  OTHERWISE 


AUTHOR  OF  SPARROWGRASS  PAPERS,  ETC., 


BIUEF  AUTOBIOGRAPHIC  SKETCH, 


try  §<roaid  6.  pittJwtt. 


NEW  YORK : 
BOOK 

TRIBUNE  BUILDING. 

I860. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1870,  toy 

FREDERIC  S.  COZZEXS,  JR., 
In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


CONTENTS. 


AUTOBIOGRAPHIC  SKETCH    ....  .  ...   xii! 

SKETCH  BY  DONALD  G.  MITCHELL ,        .     xxiii 

I.  A  TALK  ABOUT  TEA 1 

If.  JOURNEY   AROUND   A   TAPIOCA   PuDDIMO                     ...  8 

III.  THE  RADIANT  DINNER-CASTOR 13 

IV.  CHOCOLATE  AND  COCOA         .......  20 

V.  NOTABLES  AND  POTABLES         .......  24 

VI.  A  PKEP  INTO  A  SALAD  BOWL      ......  39 

VII.  MADAME  FOLLET 43 

VIII.  OLD  PHRASES 48 

IX.  ART 55 

X.  ACCIDENTAL  RESEMBLANCES 59 

XL  SITKA:  OUR  NEW  ACQUISITION        ......  69 

XII.  PHRASES  AND  FILBERTS 73 

XIII.  DOES  QUEEN  VICTORIA  SPEAK  ENGLISH         .       .       .        .81 

XIV.  THE  NOSES  OF  EMINENT  MEW                      t       *  102 
XV.  BUNKUM  MUSEUM       ....<.        t       t  106 

XVI.  UP  THE  RHINE        .        .        ,        .***.,  109 

XVII.  THE  FIRST  OYSTER-EATER       .        .        ,       .        «        .        .114 

XVIII.  A  LITERARY  CURIOSITY         .......  122 

XIX.  THE  RACE  BETWEEN  THE  HARE  AND  THE  HEDGEHOG        .  130 

XX.  WHAT  is  THE  CAUSE  OF  THUNDER? 130 

XXI.  A  FRENCH  BREAKFAST      ......               .  140 

XXII.  DAINTY  HINTS  FOR  EPICUREAN  SMOKERS  ....  143 

XXIII.  WAS  CHAMPAGNE  KNOWN  TO  THE  ANCIHSTS  ....  146 

XXIV.  GERMAN  WINES,  AUD  A  WINE  CELLAR      .  .165 


XII 


CONTENTS. 


XXV.  A  CHRISTMAS  PIKCK  .,...„...  174 

XXVI.  OXYPORIAN  WINES ]86 

XXVII.  MY  FIRST  DRAMA 214 

XXVIII-  WIVES  AND  WEATHERCOCKS 223 

XXIX.  INDIAN  SUMMER 229 

XXX.  LA  CKECHE 233 

XXXI.  GYPSIES 238 

XXXII.  PRIVATE  THEATRICALS 243 

XXXIII.  TRINITY  CHURCHYARD ,  .  255 

XXXIV.  HOMES  FOR  OLD  MKM    ........  260 


AUTOBIOGRAPHIC   SKETCH. 


MY  paternal  ancestors  settled,  either  in  the 
latter  part  of  the  seventeenth  or  very  early  in  the 
last  century,  in  Newport,  R.  I.  Leonard  Cozzens, 
the  first  of  the  name,  came  over  from  Devizes,  in 
Wiltshire,  England.  He  was  admitted  a  freeman 
of  the  Colony  of  Rhode  Island,  May  3,  1715.  He 
was  a  Quaker,  I  believe;  at  least  my  grandfather 
was  one,  before  he  changed  his  drab  coat  for  a 
soldier's  uniform  in  the  Revolution.  He  married 
a  great  granddaughter  of  Richard  Hayward,  a 
Moravian,  who  was  a  friend  of  Count  Zinzendorf, 
the  founder  of  Bethlehem,  Pa.,  and  used  to  enter 
tain  the  missionary  brethren  at  his  house ;  he  was 
the  principal  founder  of  that  church  at  Newport, 
in  1749,  and  was  called  then  Old  Father  Hay- 
ward,  as  the  chronicles  show.  His  daughter  mar 
ried  the  son  of  Governor  Taylor,  Colonial  Gov- 


XIV  AUTOBIOGRAPHIC    SKETCH. 

ernor  of  Rhode  Island,  whose  daughter  in  turn 

married  Daniels,  a  sort  of  New  England 

Robinson  Crusoe,  who,  when  a  boy,  was  ship 
wrecked,  and  found  floating  on  a  raft  on  Long 
Island  Sound.  He  was  apprenticed  to  a  leather- 
breeches  maker,  and  was  celebrated  in  after  days 
for  making  buckskin  breeches,  both  wind  and 
water  tight,  that  all  the  waves  of  Long  Island 
Sound  could  not  penetrate.  His  daughter  in  turn 
married  Issachar  Cozzens,  Senior,  my  Quaker  sol 
diering  grandfather,  who,  after  he  doffed  his  sol 
dier  coat,  became,  like  the  rest  of  his  wife's 
family,  a  zealous  Moravian. 

It  is  said  that  the  Cozzens  family  has  been 
traced  as  far  back  as  the  time  of  Henry  VIII. ; 
and  a  Catholic  Archbishop  by  the  name  of  Cozens, 
who,  overcome  by  the  persuasions  of  that  amiable 
monarch,  became  a  Protestant,  married  a  lady  of 
the  Church  of  England,  clapped  another  2  in  his 
name,  and  became  a  reformer,  whose  zeal  was  by 
no  means  that  of  the  rose-water  kind. 

Most  of  the  descendants  of  Leonard  Cozzens 
were  seafaring  men,  and  in  colonial  times,  when 


AUTOBIOGRAPHIC   SKETCH.  XY 

we  began  to  encroach  upon  the  French  settle 
ments  in  America,  were  selected  by  the  council 
to  take  charge  of  the  colony  artillery,  as  they 
were  familiar  with  this  arm  of  the  service,  hav 
ing  learned  it  on  shipboard.  Three  or  four  of 
the  name  were  enrolled  in  this  company.  Sea- 
Quakers  are  adepts  in  serving  this  kind  of  war 
tackle,  as  they  are  cool  in  an  engagement,  always 
put  powder  enough  in  the  touch-hole,  and  fire 
low ;  hence  all  marine  weapons  of  any  calibre  be 
yond  a  musket  were  formerly  called  Quaker  guns  ! 
My  grandfather  had  a  touch  of  this  fighting 
quality ;  so  when  the  War  of  the  Revolution  broke 
out,  he  took  up  arms  on  the  1st  of  April,  1775, 
under  Captain  Pew  of  Newport,  in  the  regiment 
of  Colonel  Spencer  of  Seconnet,  under  Gen.  Na 
thaniel  Green,  Brigadier  of  the  Rhode  Island 
troops,  and  marched  from  Bristol  Ferry  to  Ja 
maica  Plains,  in  Massachusetts.  A  picket-guard, 
of  which  he  was  one,  was  stationed  at  Dorchester 
Heights  the  night  before  the  battle  of  Breed's 
or  Bunker's  Hill.  On  that  never-to-be-forgotten 
morning,  by  orators,  poets,  or  politicians,  the  cele- 


XVI  AUTOBIOGRAPHIC   SKETCH. 

brated  17th  of  June,  1775,  his  company  rejoined 
the  regiment,  and  marched  around  the  beach  to 
reinforce  their  friends  on  the  hill,  whom  they  saw 
engaged  with  the  enemy.  Charlestown  was  on  fire. 
They  arrived  in  the  neighborhood  of  Prospect 
Hill,  about  a  mile  from  Bunker  Hill,  in  time  to 
support  the  retreating  patriots  after  the  brave 
General  Warren  fell.  They  then  put  up  breast 
works,  and  kept  the  ground  until  the  retreat  was 
covered.  He  afterwards  served  as  one  of  the  life 
guard  to  General  Charles  Lee.  He  was  in  Sulli 
van's  expedition,  when  the  French  fleet  under 
D'Estaing,  the  French  Admiral,  was  to  cooperate 
with  Generals  Sullivan  and  Lafayette,  which  un 
fortunately  was  frustrated  by  a  premature  land 
attack  of  the  Americans.  In  this  attack  many 
British  subjects  lost  their  lives  and  liberties ;  and 
the  Americans  were  obliged  to  retreat,  carrying 
with  them  many  of  the  British  wounded  and 
prisoners.  He  afterwards  served  as  a  guide  for 
General  Washington ;  was  in  the  reserve  force  at 
the  capture  of  General  Prescott ;  finally  was  dis 
charged  from  the  service,  "  sick,  fatigued,  and 


AUTOBIOGRAPHIC   SKETCH.  XVU 

worn  out,"  and,  as  he  expresses  it  in  a  memoir 
written  at  the  age  of  eighty,  now  before  me, 
"  never  received  one  copper  of  pay  for  my  ser 
vices." 

None  of  my  Quaker  or  Moravian  ancestors  ever 
were  known  to  joke,  and  were  therefore,  no 
doubt,  persons  of  profound  wisdom.  On  the  other 
hand,  it  'is  said  my  maternal  grandfather  broke  a 
blood-vessel  in  a  violent  fit  of  laughter,  and  un 
happily  lost  his  life  in  consequence.  My  ma 
ternal  grandmother  was  from  Carlisle,  —  a  Cum 
berland  woman  with  a  strong  Border  dialect,  and 
knew  all  the  legends,  songs,  and  ghost  stories  of 
that  warlike  and  romantic  region.  The  little 
humor  I  possess  must  be  inherited  from  this 
branch  of  the  house.  She  had  a  curious  story  to 
tell  of  her  husband's  great  uncle,  Colonel  Robert 
Backhouse,  who  was  very  wealthy,  having  de 
rived  his  "large  estates  in  England  from  a  grant 
of  the  crown  for  his  military  services,  —  among 
others,  that  of  having  pursued  the  Pretender  so 
closely  upon  one  occasion  as  to  snatch  the  cloak 
from  his  back.  The  Backhouse  or  Backus  family 


XVlil  AUTOBIOGRAPHIC   SKETCH, 

(as  many  spell  it)  are  from  Cumberland,  England. 
Crest :  "  On  a  snake  embowed,  its  tail  nowed,  an 
eagle  displayed,"  —  a  sort  of  Mexican  dollar  crest. 
The  motto  is  the  best  in  the  whole  range  of  her 
aldry,  "  Confido  in  Deo"  —  "I  trust  in  God." 

My  father  Frederick  and  my  uncle  Issachar  were 
chemists  by  profession,  naturalists,  geologists,  and 
mineralogists.  They  were  members  of  several 
scientific  societies,  and  the  early  friends  of  Drs. 
Mitchell,  Dekay,  Torrey,  Hosack,  Francis,  Audu- 
bon,  Charles  Bonaparte,  and  other  savans  of 
former  days.  Of  all  these,  Dr.  John  Torrey,  one 
of  the  most  amiable  and  highly  cultivated  pro 
fessors  of  natural  philosophy  the  country  ever 
produced,  still  survives,  and  long  may  he  con 
tinue.  My  third  and  youngest  uncle  used  to  be 
well  known  to  the  visitors  at  West  Point  as  the 
keeper,  both  of  the  old  hotel  on  the  Point,  and 
afterwards  of  the  one  that  now  bears  "his  name. 
He  was  an  amiable  man,  with  a  lively  sense  of 
humor,  and  a  great  favorite  with  all. 

In  my  early  life  I  was  greatly  given  to  study 
and  reading  of  all  kinds.  I  made  collections  of 


AUTOBIOGRAPHIC   SKETCH. 

minerals,  shells,  coins,  and  Indian  curiosities ; 
studied  anatomy  and  chemistry  before  I  was  fif 
teen  years  old ;  bored  everybody  to  death  with 
scientific  experiments,  was  wonderfully  fond  of 
theatrical  performances,  hated  history,  but  had 
a  passionate  love  of  poetry.  This  latter,  no 
doubt,  was  owing  to  my  maternal  grandmother's 
teachings,  for  she  used  to  croon  over,  day  and 
night,  the  old  Border  ballads  and  legends  in  verse, 
of  which  she  had  an  endless  store.  I  also  studied 
the  science  of  mechanics ;  gave  up  three  years  to 
the  practice  of  the  machine  branch  of  bank-note 
engraving ;  worked  at  the  forge,  the  anvil,  and 
the  turning-lathe ;  became  quite  a  proficient  in 
cutting  ovals,  circles,  borders,  and  combinations 
of  bank-note  lathe-work ;  worked  at  the  transfer 
machine ;  touched  a  little  upon  the  art  of  print 
ing,  and  could  set  up  type,  "and  pull  a  sheet," 
nearly  as  well  as  most  of  the  grown  men  in  the 
printing-office.  My  nights  were  constantly  spent 
in  reading ;  indeed,  as  a  boy,  I  took  little  pleas 
ure  in  boyish  pursuits,  as  at  a  period  of  riper 
youth  I  cared  little  for  the  amusements  of  young 


XXU  AUTOBIOGRAPHIC   SKETCH. 

Plymouth,"  in  fifty-two  chapters,  for  the  "New 
York  Ledger ; "  by  resolution  of  the  "  Century," 
a  "-Memorial  of  the  late  Col.  Peter  A.  Porter," 
read  before  the  "  Century,"  and  published  by  the 
same  in  1865 ;  by  resolution  of  the  Historical  So 
ciety,  a  "  Memorial  of  Fitz  Greene  Halleck,"  Jan 
uary  6,  1868 ;  published  by  the  society.  From 
time  to  time  I  also  contributed  stories,  sketches, 
reviews,  etc.,  to  various  magazines  and  weeklies, 
and  to  the  daily  press. 

I  have  thus  briefly  sketched  out  a  review  of 
my  literary  recreations  after  business  hours,  —  I 
should  say  fully  three  quarters  of  which  have 
never  been  attributed  to  me,  although  copied 
by  the  press  and  widely  circulated. 

F.  S.  COZZENS. 


[Some  of  the  papers  in  the  present  volume  are  reprinted  from  the  "  Hearth 
and  Home  "  Journal.  The  Editor,  Mr.  Donald  G.  Mitchell,  published  in 
that  Journal  the  following  sketch  which  Is  herewith  appended  to  Mr. 
Cozzens'  Autobiography.] 

LAST  winter,  when,  in  the  early  days  of  "  Hearth 
and  Home,"  we  were  casting  about  for  those  writ 
ers  who  would  give  a  piquancy  to  the  rural  talk 
which  we  proposed  to  furnish  to  our  readers,  who 
should  step  in,  upon  a  certain  gusty  day  of  Decem 
ber,  but  the  author  of  the  "  Sparrowgrass  Papers." 

It  seemed  to  us  a  most  happy  encounter. 

We  remembered  the  smacking  humor  of  those 
papers,  and  the  rollicking  way  in  which  he  had  set 
forth  the  disagreeable  features  of  a  citizen's  first 
experience  with  country  life,  and  how  thousands 
of  readers  had  shared  with  him  in  the  uproarious 
fun  he  had  conjured  out  of  his  e very-day  adven 
tures  at  his  country  place  in  Yonkers. 

If  now  —  thought  we  —  he  could  only  make  a 
sequel  to  that  engaging  story,  by  giving  us"  a  good, 
farcical  account  of  some  would-be  scientific  farmer, 
who  should  spend  thousands  for  nostrums  and 


XXVI       SKETCH  BY  DONALD  G.  MITCHELL. 

For  some  months  he  had  counted  himself  an  in- 

• 

valid ;  yet  it  seemed  to  us,  when  we  saw  him  last, 
with  the  old  smile  and  the  rare  twinkle  of  the  eye, 
that  he  might  well  weather  the  winter,  and  three 
or  four  more  to  come ;  but  there  was  an  ailment 
of  the  heart,  of  which  he  knew  nothing  till  toward 
the  last;  and  this  carried  him  away  at  a  blow 
upon  the  morning  of  the  23d  of  December  last. 

A  friend  writes  :  — 

"  Mr.  Cozzens  has  suffered  for  some  time  from 
asthmatic  attacks.  At  the  date  of  his  death,  he 
was  on  a  visit  at  the  house  of  a  relative  in  Brook 
lyn.  He  was  seated  with  his  wife,  when  the 
shadow  fell  upon  him. 

"  '  Open  the  door  ! '  he  said. 

"  His  wife  endeavored  to  do  so,  but  he  preceded 
her,  and  turning  the  knob,  fell  to  the  floor,  ex 
claiming,  '  0  my  !  0  my ! '  and  the  genial  heart 
was  stilled.  I  should  like  to  lay  a  wreath  upon 
his  grave." 

He  had  been  actively  engaged  in  business  pur 
suits  through  the  greater  part  of  his  life,  and  liter 
ature  was  a  by-play  with  him.  The  "  Wine  Press  " 


SKETCH  BY   DONALD   G.    MITCHELL.  XXV11 

was  a  small  monthly  which  he  issued  for  a  time  in 
the  interest  of  the  business  in  which  he  was  en 
gaged.  It  contained  much  valuable  statistical  mat 
ter  in  regard  to  vineyards  and  wine-making,  which 
was  enlivened  by  his  witty  comments.  A  small, 
volume  of  poems  by  "  Richard  Hay  warde  "  (a  pseu 
donym  of  Mr.  Cozzens),  showed  great  facility  in 
versification,  and  much  of  true  poetic  feeling.  But 
he  has  been  best  known  by  the  "  Sparrowgrass 
Papers,"  already  alluded  to,  whose  charming  rural 
pictures  and  abounding  drollery  commended  them 
to  a  very  large  circle  of  readers. 

It  will   be   read  again,  now  that  his  gibes  and 
quips  are  silenced  forever,  with  a  tender  interest. 


SAYINGS,  WISE  AND  OTHEEWISE. 

BY  THE  AUTHOR  OF  SPARROWGRASS  PAPERS. 


I. 
a  Calfc  suwmt 


,"  said  our  learned  friend,  Dr.  Bushwhacker, 
"we  are  indebted  to  China  for  the  four  prin 
cipal  blessings  we  enjoy.  Tea  came  from  China,  the 
compass  came  from  China,  printing  came  from  China, 
and  gunpowder  came  from  China — thank  God  !  China, 
sir,  is  an  old  country,  a  very  old  country.  There  is  one 
•word,  sir,  we  got  from  China,  that  is  oftener  in  the 
mouths  of  American  people  than  any  other  word  in  the 
language.  It  is  cask,  sir,  cash !  That  we  derive  from 
the  Chinese.  It  is  the  name,  sir,  of  the  small  brass  coin 
they  use,  tlie  coin  with  a  square  hole  in  the  middle.  And 
then  look  at  our  Franklin  ;  he  drew  the  lightning  from 

1 


2  A  TALK  ABOUT  TEA. 

the  skies  with  his  kite  ;  but  who  invented  the  kite,  sir ! 
The  long-tailed  Chinaman,  sir.  Franklin  had  no  in\en- 
tion ;  he  never  would  have  invented  a  kite  or  a  printing- 
press.  But  he  could  use  them,  sir,  to  the  best  possible 
advantage,  sir;  he  had  no  genius,  sir,  but  he  had  remark 
able  talent  and  industry.  Then,  sir,  we  get  our  umbrella 
from  China;  the  first  man  that  carried  an  umbrella,  in 
London,  in  Queen  Anne's  reign,  was  followed  by  a  mob. 
That  is  only  one  hundred  and  fifty  years  ago.  We  get 
the  art  of  making  porcelain  from  China.  Our  ladies  must 
thank  the  Celestials  for  their  tea-pots.  Queen  Elizabeth 
never  saw  a  tea-pot  in  her  life.  In  1664,  the  East  India 
Company  bought  two  pounds  two  ounces  of  tea  as  a  pres 
ent  for  his  majesty,  King  Charles  the  Second.  In  1667, 
they  imported  one  hundred  pounds  of  tea.  Then,  sir, 
rose  the  reign  of  scandal — Queen  Scandal,  sir !  Then, 
sir,  rose  the  intolerable  race  of  waspish  spinsters  who 
sting  reputations  and  defame  humanity  over  their  dys 
peptic  cups.  Then,  sir,  the  astringent  principle  of  the 
herb  was  communicated  to  the  heart,  and  domestic  troubles 
were  brewed  and  fomented  over  the  tea-table.  Then,  sir, 
the  age  of  chivalry  was  over,  and  women  grew  acrid  and 
bitter ;  then,  sir,  the  first  temperance  society  was  founded, 
and  high  duties  were  laid  upon  wines,  and  in  consequence 
they  distilled  whiskey  instead,  which  made  matters  a  great 
deal  better,  of  course ;  and  all  the  abominations,  aE  the 
difficulties  of  domestic  life,  all  the  curses  of  Jiving  in  a 
country  village  ;  the  intolerant  canvassing  of  character. 


A  TALK  ABOUT  TEA.  3 

reputation,  piety  :  the  nasty,  mean,  prying  spirit;  the 
uncharitable,  defamatory,  gossiping,  tale  bearing,  whis 
pering,  unwomanly,  unchristianlike  behavior  of  those 
who  set  themselves  up  for  patterns  over  their  vile 
decoctions,  sir,  arose  with  the  introduction  of  tea. 
Yes,  sir ;  when  the  wine-cup  gave  place  to  the  tea-cup, 
then  the  devil,  sir,  reached  his  culminating  point.  The 
curiosity  of  Eve  was  bad  enough ;  but,  sir,  when  Eve's 
curiosity  becomes  sharpened  by  turgid  tonics,  and  scan 
dal  is  added  to  inquisitiveness,  and  inuendo  supplies  the 
place  of  truth,  and  an  imperfect  digestion  is  the  pilot 
instead  of  charity ;  then,  sir,  we  must  expect  to  see  hu 
man  nature  vilified,  and  levity  condemned,  and  good 
fellowship  condemned,  and  all  good  men,  from  Wash 
ington  down,  damned  by  Miss  Tittle,  and  Miss  Tattle, 
and  the  Widow  Blackleg,  and  the  whole  host  of  tea- 
drinking  conspirators  against  social  enjoyment."  Here 
Dr.  Bushwhacker  grew  purple  with  eloquence  and  indig 
nation.  We  ventured  to  remark  that  he  had  spoken  of 
tea  "as  a  blessing"  at  first.  "Yes,  sir,"  responded  Dr. 
Bushwhacker,  shaking  his  bushy  head,  "that  reminds 
one  of  Doctor  Pangloss.  Yes,  sir,  it  is  a  blessing,  but 
like  all  other  blessings  it  must  be  used  temperately,  or 
else  it  is  a  curse !  China,  sir,'.'  continued  the  Doctor, 
dropping  the  oratorical,  and  taking  up  the  historical, 
"  China,  sir,  knows  nothing  of  perspective,  but  she  is 
great  in  pigments.  Indian  ink,  sir,  is  Chinese,  so  are  ver- 
rnilion  and  indigo;  the  malleable  properties  of  gold,  sir, 


A  TALK  ABOUT  TEA. 

were  first  discovered  by  this  extraordinary  people;  we 
must  thank  them  for  our  gold  leaf.  Gold  is  not  a  pigment, 
but  roast  pig  is,  and  Charles  Lamb  says  the  origin  of 
roast  pig  is  Chinese ;  the  beautiful  fabric  we  call  silk, 
sir,  came  from  the  Flowery  Nation,  so  did  embroidery, 
so  did  the  game  of  chess,  so  did  fans.  In  fact,  sir,  it  is 
difficult  to  say  what  we  have  not  derived  from  the  Chi 
nese.  Cotton,  sir,  is  our  great  staple,  but  they  wove  and 
spun  long  staple  and  short  staple,  yellow  cotton  and  white 
cotton  before  Columbus  sailed  out  of  the  port  of  Palos  in 
the  Santa  Maria." 

' '  But,  Doctor,  we  want  a  word  with  you  about  tea.  A 
little  information,  if  you  please." 

The  Doctor  is  one  of  our  old  Knickerbockers.  His 
big,  bushy  head  is  as  familiar  as  the  City  Hall.  He  be 
longs  to  the  ' '  God  bless  you  my  dear  young  friend  " 
school !  He  is  as  full  of  knowledge  as  an  egg  is  full  of 
meat.  He  knows  more  about  China  than  the  Emperor 
of  the  celestial  people. 

"Tea,  my  young  friend,  is  a  plant  that  grows  in 
China,  Japan,  and  other  parts  of  the  world.  There  are 
two  varieties,  Thea  nigra  and  Tiiea  viridis — black  tea 
and  green  tea.  The  same  plant,  sir,  produces  both  kinds. 
Green  tea  is  made  by  one  kind  of  manipulation,  black 
tea  \>y  another.  That  is  all,  sir.  The  shrub  is  raised 
from  seeds  like  hazel  nuts,  planted  in  nurseries  ;  it  is  set 
out  when  about  a  foot  high ;  lives  for  fifteen  or  twenty 
years,  grows  sometimes  as  tall  as  General  Scott  and 


A.  TALK  ABOUT  TEA.  5 

sometimes  as  small  as  Bill  Seward.  It  is  picked  four 
times  a  year.  The  first  picking  is  the  best,  when  the 
leaves  are  covered  with  a  whitish  down.  This  is  in  April, 
the  next  is  in  May,  the  next  in  July,  the  last  in  August. 
One  Chinaman  can  pick  about  thirteen  pounds  of  leaves 
per  day,  for  which  he  will  receive  sixty  cask,  or  six  cents. 
The  green  leaves  are  spread  out  on  bamboo  frames  to  dry 
a  little,  the  yellow  and  old  defective  leaves  are  picked  out, 
then  they  take  up  a  handful  of  the  leaves,  cast  them  into  a 
heated  pan,  get  them  warmed  up,  and  squeeze  out  the 
superfluous  juice ;  this  juice  contains  an  acrid  oil,  so  acrid 
as  to  irritate  the  hands  of  the  workman.  Good  God ' 
think  of  that,  sir,  what  stuff  for  the  stomach.  Then  they 
dry  them  slightly  in  the  sun,  then  every  separate  leaf  is 
rolled  up  into  a  little  ball  like  a  shot,  then  they  throw  these 
green  tea  shot  into  a  pan  slightly  heated,  stirring  them 
up  so  as  to  warm  every  part  alike ;  then  they  cool  the 
tea,  and  the  shot  are  picked  out  one  by  one,  the  best  for 
the  first  or  finest  chop.  Every  little  ball  picked  over  by 
hand.  Then  it  is  packed,  sir.  The  young  leaves  make 
the  '  Young  Hyson, '  the  older  and  stronger  leaves  the 
,  '  Hyson,'  the  refuse  goes  by  the  name  of  '  Hyson  Skin,' 
the  'Gunpowder'  and  'Imperial'  are  teas  rolled  more  care 
fully  in  rounder  balls  than  the  others.  Most  of  these  teas 
are  colored  for  our  market — colored,  sir,  with  a  mixture 
of  Prussian  blue  and  gypsum ;  no  wonder  John  China 
man  calls  us  outside  barbarians,  when,  he  knows  we  drink 
half  a  ponnd  of  gypsum  and  Prussian  blue  with  every 


6  A  TALK  ABOUT  TEA. 

hundred  pounds  of  green  tea,  and  this  tea  is  made  to 
order  !  Does  honest  John  ever  drink  such  tea  ?  No,  sir, 
he  knows  better  than  that  if  he  does  wear  a  tail." 

"And  black  tea,  you   say,  is  from  the   same  plant, 
Doctor  ?" 

"Yes,  sir,  Mr.  Robert  Fortune  brought  specimens  of 
the  T/iea  nigra  from  the  Bohea  mountains  and  compared 
them  with  the  Thea  viridis,  and  the  plants  were  identical. 
The  black  tea,  sir,  is  prepared  in  a  different  manner  from 
the  other.  The  leaves  are  allowed  to  lie  spread  out  on 
the  bamboo  trays  for  a  considerable  time  ;  then  they  are 
thrown  up  into  the  air  by  the  workman,  tossed  about, 
beat,  patted,  until  they  become  soft  or  flaccid,  then  tossed 
in  heaps,  allowed  to  lie  until  they  begin  to  change  color, 
then  they  are  tossed  in  a  tea-pan,  roasted  over  a  hotter 
fire,  rolled,  shaken  out,  exposed  to  the  air  again,  turned 
over,  partially  dried,  put  in  the  pan  a  second  time  for  five 
minutes  or  so,  then  rolled,  tossed  over,  and  tumbled 
again,  then  put  into  a  sieve,  put  over  the  fire  again,  rolled 
about,  put  over  again,  three  or  four  times,  then  placed  in 
a  basket,  thickly  packed  together  ;  the  Chinaman  makes 
a  hole  through  the  mass  of  leaves  with  his  hand  to  give 
vent  to  the  smoke  and  steam  ;  then  over  the  fire  they  go, 
and  remain  there  until  they  are  perfectly  dry — in  fact, 
sir,  until  the  fire  dies  out.  Then  picked,  packed,  and  as 
sorted  for  the  market.  Now,  sir,  here  is  the  difference 
between  black  tea  and  green  tea,  the  latter  retains  all  its 
acrid  properties,  it  produces  nervous  irritability,  sleep- 


A  TALK  ABOUT  TEA.  7 

lessness,  sir ;  why,  if  you  take  a  pinch  of  green  tea  and 

chew  it,  sir,  you  can  sit  and  listen  to  Dr. 's  sermon 

and  keep  wide  awake  sir — a  thing  impossible  to  do  undei 
•  any  other  circumstances.  But  black  tea  has  much  of  thi? 
oil  dried  out  of  it,  and  therefore  it  is  less  injurious  than 
the  other  ;  less  injurious,  I  say,  —  not  harmless  by  any 
means.  Do  you  ever  travel  in  the  country  1  Well,  sir, 
there  you  will  see  the  ravages  of  green  tea,  Prussian  blue, 
and  gypsum  among  the  fairest  portion  of  creation — 
women  !  There,  sir,  you  will  see  pinched-up,  penurious, 
prying  faces — faces  made  up  of  a  complication  of  fine 
lines,  as  if  all  human  sympathies  had  got  into  a  tangle  ; 
necks  all  wrinkles ;  fingers,  a  beautiful  exhibition  of 
bones,  ligaments,  and  tendons ;  eyes,  sharp,  restless,  in 
quisitive  ;  shoulders,  drooping ;  bust,  nowhere ;  viscera, 
collapsed,  and  the  muscular  system,  or  the  form  divine 
generally,  in  a  state  of  dubiety ;  yes,  sir,  and  all  this 
comes  from  the  constant  use  of  *  T hea  viridisj  sir,  green 
tea,  sir.  Our  forefathers,  sir,  threw  the  tea  overboard  in 
Boston  harbor ;  if  people  knew  what  we  of  the  faculty 
know,  sir,  they  would  do  the  same  thing  now,  sir,  with 
every  chop  that  comes  from  the  celestial  empire  " 


II. 
Jourueg  arountr  a  Eapioca 


R.  BUSHWHACKER  folded  his  napkin,  drew  it 
through  the  silver  ring,  laid  it  on  the  table, 
folded  his  arms,  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  by  which  we 
knew  there  was  something  at  work  in  his  knowledge-box. 
"My  dear  Madam,"  said  he,  with  a  Metamora  shake  ol 
the  head,  '  '  there  are  a  great  many  things  to  be  said 
about  that  pudding." 

Now,  such  a  remark  at  a  season  of  the  year  when  eggs 
are  five  for  a  shilling,  and  not  always  fresh  at  that,  is 
enough  to  discomfort  any  body.  The  Doctor  perceived 
it  at  once,  and  instantly  added,  "  In  a  geographical  point 
of  view,  there  are  many  things  to  be  said  about  that 
pudding.  M^  J»vir  madam,"  he  continued,  "take  tapi 
oca  itself;  what  ^.  it,  and  where  does  it  come  from  ?" 

Our  eldest  boy,  just  emerging  from  chickenhood,  an 
swered,  "85  Chambers  street,  two  doors  below  the  Irv 
ing  House." 

"  True,  my  dear  young  friend,"  responded  the  Doctor, 
with  a  friendly  pat  on  the  head  ;  "  true,  but  that  is  not 
what  I  mean.  Where,"  he  repeated,  with  a  questioning 
look  through  Ids  spectacles,  and  a  Bushwhackian  nod, 
"  does  tapioca  come  from  ?" 

8 


JO  DUNE  Y  AROUND  A  TAPIOCA  PUDDING.  9 

"Rio  de  Janeiro  and  Para  1" 

"  Yes,  sir ;  from  Eio  de  Janeiro  in  the  southern,  and 
Para  in  the  northern  part  of  the  Brazils,  do  we  get  our 
tapioca  ;  from  the  roots  of  a  plant  called  the  Mandioca, 
botanically,  the  JatropJia  manihot,  or,  as  they  say,  tli 
Cassava.  The  roots  are  long  and  round,  like  a  sweet 
potato  ;  generally  a  foot  or  more  in  length.  Every  joint 
of  the  plant  will  produce  its  roots  like  the  cuttings  of  a 
grape-vine.  The  tubers  are  dug  up  from  the  ground, 
peeled,  scraped,  or  grated,  then  put  in  long  sacks  of  flex 
ible  rattan  ;  sacks,  six  feet  long  or  more,  and  at  the  bot 
tom  of  the  sack  they  suspend  a  large  stone,  by  which  the 
flexible  sides  are  contracted,  and  then  out  pours  the  cas 
sava-juice  into  a  pan  placed  below  to  receive  it.  This  juice 
is  poisonous,  sir,  highly  poisonous,  and  very  volatile. 
Then,  my  dear  madam,  it  is  macerated  in  water,  and  the 
residuum,  after  the  volatile  part,  the  poison,  is  evaporated, 
is  the  innocuous  farina,  which  looks  like  small  crumbs  of 
bread,  and  which  we  call  tapioca.  The  best  kind  of  tap 
ioca  comes  from  Rio,  which  is,  I  believe,  about  five  thou 
sand  five  hundred  miles  from  New  York ;  so  we  must  put 
down  that  as  a  little  more  than  one  fifth -of  our  voyage 
around  the  pudding." 

This  made  our  eldest  open  his  eyes. 

''Eggs  and  milk,"  continued  Dr.  Bushwhacker,  "are 
home  productions;  but  sugar,  refined  sugar,  is  made 
partly  of  the  moist  and  sweet  yellow  sugar  of  Louisiana, 
partly  of  the  hard  and  dry  sugar  of  the  West  Indies.  I 


10          JOURNEY  AROUND  A  TAPIOCA  PUDDING. 

will  not  go  into  the  process  of  refining  sugar  now,  but  I 
may  observe  here,  that  the  sugar  we  get  from  Louisiana, 
if  refined  and  made  into  a  loa£  would  be  quite  soft,  with 
large  loose  crystals,  while  the  Havana  sugar,  subjected  to 
the  same  treatment,  would  make  a  white  cone  almost  as 
compact  and  hard  as  granite.  But  we  have  made  a  trip 
io  the  Antilles  for  our  sugar,  and  so  you  may  add  fifteen 
hundred  miles  more  for  the  saccharine." 

"That  is  equal  to  nearly  one-third  of  the  circumfer 
ence  of  the  pudding  we  live  upon,  Doctor." 

"Vanilla,"  continued  the  Doctor,  "with  which  this 
pudding  is  so  delightfully  flavored,  is  the  bean  of  a  vine 
that  grows  wild  in  the  multitudinous  forests  of  Venezuela, 
New  Granada,  Guiana,  and,  in  fact,  throughout  South 
America.  The  long  pod,  which  looks  like  the  scabbard 
of  a  sword,  suggested  the  name  to  the  Spaniards ;  vagna, 
meaning  scabbard,  from  which  comes  the  diminutive, 
vanilla,  or  little  scabbard — appropriate  enough,  as  every 
one  will  allow.  These  beans,  which  are  worth  here  from 
six  to  twenty  dollars  a  pound,  could  be  as  easily  cultivat 
ed  as  hops  in  that  climate ;  but  the  indolence  of  the  peo 
ple  is  so  great,  that  not  one  Venezuelian  has  been  found 
with  sufficient  enterprise  to  set  out  one  acre  of  vanilla, 
which  would  yield  him  a  small  fortune  every  year.  JS"o, 
sir.  The  poor  peons,  or  peasants,  raise  their  garabanzas 
for  daily  use,  but  beyond  that  they  never  look.  They 
plant  their  crops  in  the  footsteps  of  their  ancestors,  and, 
if  it  had  not  been  for  their  ancestors,  they  would  proba- 


JOURNEY  ABOUND  A  TAPIOCA  PUDDING.          11 

bly  have  browsed  on  the  wild  grass  of  the  llanos  or  plains. 
Ah  '  there  are  a  great  many  such  bobs  hanging  at  the  tail 
of  some  ancestral  kite,  even  in  this  great  city,  my  dear, 
learned  friend." 

"  True,  Doctor,  you  are  right  there." 

"  Well,  sir,  the  vanilla  is  gathered  from  the  wild  vines 
in  the  woods.  Oft*  goes  the  hidalgo,  proud  of  his  noble 
ancestry,  and  toils  home  under  a  back-load  of  the  refuse 
beans  from  the  trees,  after  the  red  monkey  has  had  his 
pick  of  the  best.  A  few  reals  pay  him  for  the  day's 
work,  and  then,  hey  for  the  cock-pit!  There,  Signor 
Olibgie  meets  the  Marquis  de  Shinplaster,  or  the  Padre 
Corcorochi,  and  of  course  gets  whistled  out  of  his  earn 
ings  with  the  first  click  of  the  gaffs.  Then  back  he  goes 
to  his  miserable  hammock,  and  so  ends  his  year's  labor. 
That,  sir,  is  the  history  of  the  flavoring,  and  you  will 
have  to  allow  a  stretch  across  the  Caribbean,  say  twenty- 
five  hundred  miles,  for  the  vanilla." 

"We  are  getting  pretty  well  around,  Doctor." 

"Then  we  have  sauce,  here,  wine-sauce;  Tenerifle,  I 
should  say,  by  the  flavor. 

' from  beneath  the  cliff 

Of  sunny-sided  Teneriffe, 
And  ripened  in  the  blink 
Of  India's  sun.' 

We  must  take  four  thousand  miles  at  least  for  the  wine, 
my  learned  friend,  and  say  nothing  of  the  rest  of  the 
eaucc." 


12          JOURNEY  AROUND  A  TAPIOCA  PUDDING. 

"Except  the  nutmeg,  Doctor." 

"Thank  you,  my  dear  young  friend,  thank  you.  The 
nutmeg !  To  the  Spice  Islands,  in  the  Indian  Ocean  we 
are  indebted  for  our  nutmegs.  Our  old  original  Knicker 
bockers,  the  web-footed  Dutchmen,  have  the  monopoly 
of  this  trade.  Every  nutmeg  has  paid  toll  at  the  Hague 
before  it  yields  its  aroma  to  our  graters.  The  Spice 
Islands !  The  almost  fabulous  Moluccas,  where  neither 
corn  nor  rice  will  grow ;  where  the  only  quadrupeds  they 
have  are  the  odorous  goats  that  breathe  the  fragrant  air, 
and  the  musky  crocodiles  that  bathe  in  the  high-seasoned 
waters.  The  Moluccas, 

' the  isles 


Of  Ternate  and  Ticlore,  whence  merchants  bring 
Their  spicy  drugs.' 

There,  sir  1  Milton,  sir.  From  Ternate  and  Tidore,  and 
the  rest  of  that  marvelous  cluster  of  islands,  we  get  our 
nutmegs,  our  mace,  and  our  cloves.  Add  twelve  thou 
sand  miles  at  least  to  the  circumference  of  the  pudding 
for  the  nutmeg." 

' '  This  is  getting  to  be  a  pretty  large  pudding,  Doctor." 
"Yes,  sir.  We  have  traveled  already  twenty-five 
.housand  five  hundred  miles  around  it,  and  now  let  us 
re-circumnavigate  and  come  back  by  the  way  of  Mexico, 
so  that  we  can  get  a  silver  spoon,  and  penetrate  into 
the  interior." 


m. 
i&atiiant  Burner  (ftastor. 

"begin  to  think  there  is  wisdom  in  Dr.  Bush 
whacker.  "There  are  other  things  to  study 
geography  from,  besides  maps  and  globes,"  is  one  of  his 
favorite  maxims.  We  begin  to  believe  it.  u  Observe, 
my  learned  friend, "said  he,  "how  the  reflected  sunshine 
from  those  cut  bottles  in  the  castor-stand,  throws  long 
plumes  of  light  in  every  direction  across  the  white  dam 
ask."  We  leaned  forward,  and  saw  the  phenomenon 
pointed  out  by  the  index-finger  of  the  Doctor,  and  as  -we 
knew  something  was  coming  from  his  pericranics,  kept 
silent  of  course.  "Well,"  said  he,  inflating  his  lips  until 
his  face  looked  like  that  of  a  cast-iron  caryatid,  "well, 
my  dear  friend,  every  pencil  of  light  there  is  a  point  of  the 
compass,  and  the  contents  of  that  castor  come  from  places 
as  various  as  those  diverging  rays  indicate.  The  mustard 
is  from  England,  the  vinegar  from  France,  China  fur 
nishes  the  soy,  Italy  the  oil,  we  have  to  ask  the  West 
Indies  to  contribute  the  red  pepper,  and  the  East  Indies 
to  supply  the  black  pepper."  We  ventured  to  remark 
that  those  facts  we  were  not  ignorant  of,  by  any  means. 
"  True,  my  dear  learned  friend,"  said  the  Doctor,  with  a 
Bort  of  snort ;  "but  God  bless  me!  if  one-half  of  the 

13 


14  THE  KADI  ANT  DINNER  CASTOE. 

people  in  this  city  know  it."  "Mustard,"  continued 
Doctor  Bushwhacker,  not  at  all  discomfited,  "comes 
from  Durham,  in  the  north  of  England — that  is,  the  best 
quality.  The  other  productions  of  this  county  do  not 
amount  to  much,  nor  is  it  celebrated  for  any  thing, 
except  that  here  the  Queen  Philippa,  wife  of  King 
Edward  the  Third,  captured  David  Bruce,  King  of  Scots, 
for  which  reason  no  Scotchman  can  eat  Durham  mustard 
except  with  tears  in  his  eyes.  We  get  our  grindstones 
from  this  English  county,  my  learned  friend ;  and  when 
you  sharpen  your  knife  or  your  appetite  hereafter,  it  will 
remind  you  of  Durham.  That  long  pencil  of  light  from 
the  next  bottle  points  to  France,  where  they  make  the 
best  wine-vinegar  we  get.  Just  observe  the  difference 
between  that  sturdy,  pot-bellied  mustard-bottle,  which 
represents  John  Bull,  and  this  slender,  sharp,  vinegar- 
cruet,  which  represents  Johnny  Crapeau;  there  is  a 
national  distinction,  sir,  in  cruets  as  well  as  men.  The 
quantity  of  vinegar  made  in  France  is  very  great.  The 
best  comes  from  Bordeaux ;  sometimes  it  is  so  strong  that 
the  Frenchmen  call  it  '  vinaigre  des  trois  dents,'  or  vin 
egar  with  three  teeth  ;  but  the  finest  flavored  vinegar  I 
ever  met  with  came  from  Portugal,  and  for  a  salad,  noth 
ing  could  equal  its  delicate  aroma.  Well,  sir,  then  there 
is  the  red-pepper,  the  Cayenne ;  that  I  presume  is  from 
J  amaiea  ?" 

We  assented. 

"  The  best  and  strongest  kind  is  made  partly  of  the  bird 
pepper,  and  partly  of  the  long-pod  pepper  of  the  West 


THE  EADIAKT  DINNER  CASTOR.  15 

Indies.  This  is  a  very  healthy  condiment,  sir;  in  the 
tropics  it  is  indispensable.  There  is  a  maxim  there,  sir, 
that  people  who  eat  Cayenne  pepper  will  live  for  ever. 
Like  variety,  it  is  the  spice  of  life,  sir,  at  the  equator. 
Our  own  gardens,  sir,  furnish  capsicum,  and  in  fact  it 
grows  in  all  parts  of  the  world  ;  but  that  from  the  West 
Indies  is  esteemed  to  be  the  best,  and  I  think  with  jus 
tice.  Now,  sir,  the  next  pencil  of  light  ig  reflected  from 
the  Yellow  Sea!" 

"The  soy,  Doctor?" 

"  The  soy,  my  learned  friend;  the  best  fish-sauce  on 
the  face  of  the  globe.  The  soy,  sir,  or  'soya,'  as  the 
Japanese  call  it,  is  a  species  of  bean,  which  would  grow 
in  this  country  as  well  as  any  other  Chinese  plant.  Few 
Chinamen  eat  anything  without  a  mixture  of  this  bean- 
jelly  in  some  shape  or  other.  They  scald  and  peel  the 
beans,  then  add  an  equal  quantity  of  wheat  or  barley, 
then  the  mess  is  allowed  to  ferment,  then  they  add  a  little 
salt,  sometimes  tumeric  for  color,  water  is  added  also,  in 
the  proportion  of  three  to  one  of  the  mass,  and  after  a 
few  months'  repose  the  soy  is  pressed,  strained,  and  ready 
for  market.  That,  sir,  is  the  history  of  that  cruet,  and 
now  we  will  pass  on  to  the  black  pepper." 

"A  glass  of  wine  first,  Doctor,  if  you  please." 

' '  Thank  you,  my  dear  friend ;  bless  me,  how  dry  I 
am." 

"Black  pepper,  Piper  nigrum,  is  the  berry  of  a  vine 
that  grows  in  Sumatra  and  Ceylon,  but  our  principal 


16  THE  RADIANT  DINNER  CASTOR. 

supply  of  this  commonest  of  condiments  comes  from  the 
Island  of  Java ;  and  we  have  to  pay  our  web-footed 
Knickerbockers,  across  the  water,  a  little  toll  upon  that, 
as  we  do  upon  many  other  things  of  daily  consumption. 
The  pepper-vine  is  a  very  beautiful  plant,  with  large, 
Jval,  polished  leaves  and  showy  white  flowers,  that  would 
look  beautiful  if  wound  around  the  head  of  a  bride." 

"No  doubt,  Doctor,  but  I  think  the  less  pepper  about 
a  bride  the  better." 

"Good,  my  learned  friend;  you  are  right;  if  I  were 
to  get  married  again,  sir,"  continued  the  Doctor  in  a  very 
hearty  manner,  ' '  I  should  be  a  little  afraid  of  the  contact 
of  piper  nigrwn" 

"What  is  white  pepper,  Doctor?" 

"White  pepper  is  the  same,  sir,  as  black  pepper,  only 
it  is  decorticated,  that  is,  the  black  husk  has  been  rubbed 
off.  Now,  sir,  there  is  not  much  else  interesting  about 
pepper,  except  that  the  best  probably  comes  from  the 
kingdom  of  Bantam ;  and  the  quantity,  formerly  export 
ed  from  the  seaport  of  that  name  in  the  Island  of  Java, 
amounted,  sir,  to  ten  thousand  tons  annually;  a  good 
Reasonable  supply  of  seasoning  for  the  world,  sir.  Well, 
sir,  we  are  also  indebted  to  Bantam  for  a  very  small  breed 
of  fowls,  the  peculiar  use  of  which  no  philosopher  has  as 
yet  been  able  to  determine.  Now,  sir,  we  have  finished 
the  castor,  I  think  ?" 

"There  is  one  point  of  light,  Doctor,  that  indicates 
Italy;  what  of  the  oil?" 


THE  RADIANT  DINNER  CASTOR.  17 

"All!  Lucca  and  Parma  I     Indeed,  sir,  I  may  say, 
France,  Spain,  and  Italy ! 

"  '  Three  kingdoms  claim  its  birth ; 
Both  hemispheres  proclaim  its  •worth.' 

The  olive,  sir.  I  remember  something  from  my  school 
boy  days  about  that.  It  is  from  Pliny's  History  of  Na 
ture,  sir.  (Liber  XV.)  The  olive  in  the  western  world 
was  the  companion,  sir,  as  well  as  the  symbol  of  peace. 
Two  centuries  after  the  foundation  of  Rome,  both  Italy 
and  Africa  were  strangers  to  this  useful  plant.  It  was 
naturalized  in  those  countries,  sir,  and  at  length  carried 
into  the  heart  of  Spain  and  Gaul.  The  timid  errors  of 
the  ancients,  that  it  required  a  certain  degree  of  heat* 
and  could  not  flourish  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  sea* 
were  insensibly  exploded  by  industry  and  experience. 
There,  sir !  But  the  timid  errors  of  the  ancients  are  not 
more  surprising  than  the  timid  errors  of  the  moderns. 
The  olive  tree  should  be  as  common  here  as  it  is  in  the 
old  world,  especially  as  it  is  the  emblem  of  peace.  My 
old  friend,  Dominick  Lynch,  sir,  the  wine-merchant,  the 
only  great  wine-merchant  we  ever  had,  sir,  imported  the 
finest  oil,  sir,  from  Lucca,  known  even  to  this  day  as 
'  Lynch's  Oil.'  He  it  was  who  made  Chateau  Margaux 
and  the  Italian  opera,  popular,  sir,  in  this  great  metrop 
olis.  Poor  Dom!  Well,  sir,  I  suppose  you  know  all 
about  the  olive  tree  ?" 

"  On  the  contrary,  very  little." 
2 


18  THE  RADIANT  DINNER  CASTOR. 

"  Well,  the  olive  is  as  easily  propagated  as  the  willow. 
You  must  go  boldly  to  work,  however,  and  cut  off'  a  limb 
of  the  tree,  as  big  as  my  arm,  and  plant  that.  No  twig, 
sir.  In  three  years  it  will  bear ;  in  five  years  it  will  have 
a  full  crop  ;  in  ten  years  it  will  be  in  perfection.  If  you 
plant  a  slip,  it  will  take  twenty  years  or  more  to  mature. 
Its  mode  of  bearing  is  biennial,  and  you  can  prime  it 
every  other  year,  and  plant  the  cuttings.  Longworth 
ought  to  take  up  the  oh' ve,  sir ;  and  he  might  have  a 
wreath  to  put  around  his  head,  as  he  deserves.  Well, 
my  learned  friend,  when  the  olive  is  ripe — the  fruit  I 
mean — it  is  of  a  deep  violet  color.  Those  we  get  in  bot 
tles  are  plucked  while  they  are  green.  The  plums  are 
put  between  two  circular  mill-stones — the  upper  one  con 
vex,  the  lower  one  concave;  the  fruit  is  thus  crushed, 
and  afterward  put  into  a  press,  and  the  oil  is  extracted  by 
means  of  a  powerful  lever.  That  is  all,  sir ;  an  oil-press 
is  not  a  very  handsome  article  to  look  at;  but  in  the 
South,  I  think  it  would  be  serviceable  at  least;  but 
ter  there  is  not  always  of  the  best  quality  in  summer ;  and 
olive  oil  would  be  a  delightful  substitute." 
"  What  of  French  and  Spanish  oil,  Doctor?" 
"  Spanish  oil  is  very  good,  sir.  So  is  French ;  we  get 
little  of  the  Italian  oil  now.  The  oil  of  Aix,  near  Mar 
seilles,  is  of  superior  quality ;  but  that  does  not  come  to 
our  market.  Lately  I  have  used  the  oil  of  Bordeaux  in 
place  of  the  Italian ;  it  is  very  fine.  But  speaking  of 
olivo  oil,  let  me  tell  you  an  anecdote  of  iny  friend  G  odey, 


THE  RADIANT  DINNER  CASTOR.  19 

of  Philadelphia,  of  the  Ladied  Book^  sir,  the  best  heart 
ed  man  of  that  name  in  the  world.  Well,  sir,  Godey  had 
a  new  servant-girl ;  I  never  knew  any  body  that  didn't 
have  a  new  servant-girl  I  Well,  sir,  Godey  had  a  dinner 
party  in  early  spring,  when  lettuce  is  a  rarity,  and  of 
course  he  had  lettuce.  He  is  a  capital  hand  at  a  salad, 
and  so  he  dressed  it.  The  guests  ate  it ;  and — sir — well, 
sir,  I  must  hasten  to  the  end  of  the  story.  Said  Godey 
to  the  new  girl  next  morning:  'What  has  become  of  that 
bottle  of  castor-oil  I  gave  you  to  put  away  yesterday 
morning  ?'  '  Sure,'  said  she,  '  you  said  it  was  castor-oil, 
and  I  put  it  in  the  castor?  'Well,'  said  Godey,  '] 
thought  BO.'  " 


IV. 

ant  <£ocxm. 


ow  *8  ^'  •^oc*or>"  said.  we  over  our  matutinal, 
but  unusual  cup  of  chocolate,  "  how  is  it  that 
drinking  chocolate  produces  a  headache  with  many  per 
sons  who  can  eat  chocolate  bon-bons  by  the  quantity  with 
impunity  !  "  "  My  learned  friend,  "  said  Dr.  Bushwhacker, 
rousing  up  and  shaking  his  mane,  "I  will  lell  you  all 
about  it.  Chocolate,  or  as  the  great  Linnaeus  used  to  call 
it,  'Theo  drama1  —  food  for  the  gods  —  is  a  most  peculiar 
preparation.  It  is  made  of  the  berries  of  the  cacao,  sir, 
a  small  tree  indigenous  to  South  America.  We  misname 
the  berries  cocoa,  because  the  jicaras,  or  native  cups  in 
which  the  cocoa  was  drunk  by  the  Mexicans,  were  made 
of  the  small  end  of  the  cocoa-nut.  The  tree,  sir,  bears 
a  beautiful  rose-colored  blossom,  and  that  produces  a  long 
pod,  resembling  our  cucumber  ;  in  that  pod  we  find  the 
cacao  imbedded  —  a  multitude  of  oval  pits,  about  the  size 
of  shelled  almonds,  and  surrounded  with  a  white  acid 
pulp.  Now,  sir,  this  pulp  produces  a  very  refreshing 
drink  in  the  tropics,  called  vino  cacao,  or  cacao-wine, 
which  is  more  esteemed  there  than  the  beverage  we  make 
from  the  berries." 

"Bui),  Doctor,  how  about  the  headache?" 

20 


CHOCOLATE   AND  COCOA,  21 

»*  Sir,"  said  the  Doctor,  "I  am  getting  to  that.  If  you 
take  a  pair  of  compasses,  and  put  the  right  leg  in  the 
middle  of  the  Madeira  River,  one  of  the  tributaries  of  the 
majestic  Amazon,  and  extend  the  other  to  Caracas,  then 
sweep  it  round  in  a  circle,  you  will  embrace  within  that 
the  native  land  of  the  cacao.  It  grows,  sir,  from  Vene 
zuela  to  the  Pampas  of  Buenos  Ayres,  an  extent  of  coun 
try  more  beautiful,  vaster,  and  of  less  importance  than 
any  other  territory  on  the  habitable  globe.  Well,  sir, 
this  plant,  which,  from  its  oleaginous  properties,  seems 
suitable  to  supply  the  want  of  animal  food,  is  expressly 
adapted  for  that  country.  '  He  who  has  drank  one  cup,' 
says  Fernando  Cortez,  '  can  travel  a  whole  day  without 
any  other  food.'  Now,  sir,  we  must  not  believe  this  al 
together  ;  but  the  value  of  this  liquid  nutriment  for  those 
who  have  to  cross  the  Llanos  of  the  north,  or  the  Pam 
pas  of  the  south,  is  not  to  be  lightly  estimated." 

"But  the  headache,  Doctor?" 

"Chocolate,"  continued  Dr.  Bushwhacker,  "is  made 
of  the  cacao  berries,  slightly  roasted  and  triturated  in 
water ;  a  certain  degree  of  heat  is  necessary  in  its  prepa 
ration.  The  best  we  have  comes  from  Caracas ;  it  is  of  a 
light  brown  color,  and  quite  expensive,  sometimes  two  or 
three  dollars  a  pound.  The  ordinary  chocolate  we  import 
from  France,  Spain,  Germany,  and  the  West  Indies,  is 
a  mixture  of  cacao  with  sago,  rice,  sugar,  and  other  arti- 
.  cles,  flavored  with  cinnamon  or  vanilla,  the  latter  being 
deleterious  on  account  of  its  effects  upon  the  nervous  sys- 


22  CHOCOLATE  AXD  COCOA. 

tern.  How  much  Caracas  cacao  is  used  here  I  do  not 
know,  but  I  presume  Para  furnishes  our  manufacturers 
with  their  principal  supplies.  The  quantity  of  cacao  that 
comes  here  in  its  native  state  is  very  great,  compared 
with  the  manufactured  article,  the  chocolate  ;  we  import 
one  hundred  and  seventy  thousand  dollars'  worth  of  the 
one,  against  a  little  over  two  thousand  dollars'  worth  of 
the  other." 

4 '  But  the  headache,  Doctor  ?  What  is  the  reason  that 
liquid  choco " 

"  Sir,"  replied  Dr.  Bushwhacker,  drawing  himself  up 
with  cast-iron  dignity,  "  if  I  interrupted  you  as  often  as 
you  interrupt  me,  that  question  would  be  answered  some 
time  after  the  allies  take  Sebastopol.  Chocolate  was 
introduced  into  Spain  by  Fernando  Cortez ;  to  this  day 
it  is  in  Spain  what  coffee  is  to  France,  or  tea  to  England, 
the  pet  beverage  of  all  classes  of  people  who  can  afford 
it.  It  was  introduced  into  England  simultaneously  with 
coffee,  just  before  the  restoration  of  King  Charles  the 
Second.  Then  it  was  prepared  for  the  table  by  merely 
mixing  it  with  hot  water,  no  milk,  sir.  Pope  alludes  to 
it  in  the  Rape  of  the  Lock.  '  Whatever  spirit,  careless 
of  his  charge,  his  post  neglects,' 

" '  In  fumes  of  burning  chocolate  shall  glow, 
And  tremble  at  the  sea  that  froths  below.' 

The  Spaniards,  sir,  do  not  use  milk  in  preparing  it,  nor. 
do  the  South  Americans.  By  the  way,  thirty  years  ago, 


CHOCOLATE  AND  COCOA.  23 

my  friend,  Col.  Duane,  of  Philadelphia,  published  a  book 
on  Colombia,  which  is  highly  interesting  ;  so,  too,  you  will 
find  Zea's  Colombia  of  the  same  period ;  Pazo's  Letters 
to  Henry  Clay,  written  in  1819  ;  Depon's  Voyages  in  the 
early  part  of  this  century  ;  and  the  still  more  interesting 
voyages  of  Don  George  Juan,  and  Don  Antonio  de  Ulloa, 
in  1735.  Then  there  is  Hippisly's  Narrative,  Brown's 
Itinerary,  and  many  other  books,  my  learned  friend,  that 
will  tell  you  about  the  cacao.  In  that  country,  where 
meat  is  not  abundant,  a  eup  of  chocolate  supplies  the 
necessary  nutriment,  and  a  breakfast  of  cacao  and  fruit, 
sir,  is  satisfying  and  delicious.  Arbuthnot  says  it  is  rich, 
alimentary,  and  anodyne." 

"But  the  headache,  Doctor ?" 

"  In  Spain,"  continued  the  Doctor,  it  is  served  up  in 
beautiful  cups  of  fillagree  work,  made  in  the  shape  of 
tulips  or  lilies,  with  leaves  that  fold  over  the  top  by 
touching  a  spring.  These  leaves  are  to  protect  it  from 
the  flies.  The  ladies  are  so  fond  of  it  that  they  have  it 
sent  after  them  to  church ;  this  the  bishops  -interdicted 
for  a  while,  but  that  only  made  it  more  desirable." 

"  But  what  are  its  peculiar  properties,  Doctor  ?" 

"  Tea,  my  learned  friend,"  reph'ed  the  Doctor,  curtly, 
"  inspires  scandal  and  sentiment ;  coffee  excites  the  im 
agination  ;  but  chocolate,  sir,  is  aphrodisiac  1" 


V. 

antr 


dear  learned  friend,"  said  Dr.  Bush 
whacker,  putting  down  his  half-empty 
goblet  of  claret,  "  that  is  the  .finest  wine  I  ever  tasted. 
A  man,  sir,  should  go  down  on  his  knees  when  he  drinks 
such  wine ;  it  inspires  me,  sir,  with  humility  and  devo 
tion.  Six  months'  retirement  and  study,  with  a  liberal 
allowance  of  claret  like  that,  would  induce  an  epic  poem, 
sir!" 

"  Retirement  and  study  would  do  much,  Doctor ;  but 
as  for  the  claret  I  have  my  doubts.  France,  with  all  her 
clarets,  has  no  great  poet." 

•'  Sir,"  replied  Doctor  Bushwhacker,  "  France  has  Coi  * 
neille,  Racine,  Moliere !" 

"  True." 

"  La  Fontaine.  Voltaire,  and  Boileau." 

"  True." 

"  Jongleurs,  Troubadours,  Trouveres,  without  number, 
sir!" 

"I  know  it." 

"  Beranger,  Lamartine,  Victor  Hugo,  and — what  is  tho 
name  of  that  barber-poet  ? — ah !  Jasmin." 

24 


NOTABLES  AND  POTABLES.  25 

•*  Yes,  Jasmin." 

"  And,"  continued  the  Doctor,  "  there  was  Du  Bartas, 
sir,  who  wrote  the  'Divine  Week'  and  the  'Battle  of 
Ivry,'  sir!" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Claret,"  said  Dr.  Bushwhacker  significantly. 

"  Great  thing  for  wit,  Doctor !" 

"  My  dear  learned  friend,  it  is,"  replied  the  Doctor, 
emptying  his  goblet,  and  giving  a  triumphant  snort,  "and 
for  poetry,  too." 

"  How  is  it,  then,  that  with  all  her  great  poets,  France 
has  not  produced  a  great  poem  ?" 

"  Sir,"  asked  Dr.  Bushwhacker,  "  did  you  ever  read 
the  GEdipe  of  Corneille  ?" 

"  No,  sir." 

"  Then  I  would  advise  you  to  read  it,  sir." 

"My  learned  friend,"  continued  Dr.  Bushwhacker, 
after  an  impressive  pause,  "  I  have  a  theory  that  certain 
wines  produce  certain  effects  upon  the  mind.  I  believe, 
sir,  that  if  I  were  to  come  in  upon  a  dinner-party  about 
the  time  when  conversation  had  become  luminous  and 
choral,  I  could  easily  tell  whether  Claret,  Champagne, 
Sherry,  Madeira,  Burgundy,  Port,  or  Punch,  had  been 
the  prevailing  potable.  Yes,  sir,  and  no  doubt  a  skillful 
critic  could  determine,  after  a  careful  analysis  of  the  sub 
ject,  upon  what  drink,  sir,  a  poem  was  written.  Yes,  sir, 
or  tell  a  claret  couplet  from  a  sherry  couplet,  sir,  or  dis- 


26  NOTABLES  AND  POTABLES. 

tinguish  the  flavor  of  Port  in  one  stanza,  and  Madeira  in 
another,  from  internal  evidence,  sir." 

"  Suppose,  Doctor,  the  poet  were  a  water-drinker  f " 
"My  dear  learned  friend,"  replied  the  Doctor  vehe 
mently,  "if  you  can  find  in  the  whole  range  of  literature 
— and  I  will  go  farther  than  that — if  you  can  find  in  the 
whole  range  of  intelligence,  either  poet,  statesman,  orator, 
artist,  hero,  or  divine,  who  was  a  water-drinker,  and  worth 
one  (excuse  me)  curse !  then,  sir,  I  will  renounce  the 
practice  of  my  profession,  and  occupy  my  time  in  a  water- 
cure  establishment.  On  the  contrary,  look  at  the  illus 
trious  writers  of  all  ages  and  nations,  sir;  look  at  Homer. 
There  is  no  end  to  the  juncketings  in  the  Iliad,  sir  ;  and 
the  Greek  heaven,  sir,  is  pretty  well  supplied  with  every 
thing  else  but  water,  I  believe. 


-'  This  did  to  laughter  cheer 


White-wristed  Juno,  who  now  took  a  cup  of  him,  and  smiled, 
The  sweet  peace-making  draught  went  round,  and  lame  Ephaistus 
Nectar  to  all  the  other  gods.    A  laughter  never  left,  [filled 

Shook  all  the  blessed  deities,  to  see  the  lame  so  deft 
At  the  cup  service.    All  that  day,  even  till  the  sun  went  down, 
They  banqueted ;  and  had  such  cheer  as  did  their  wishes  crown.' " 

"  "What  was  Homer's  peculiar  tipple,  Doctor  ?" 

"  The  wine  of  Chios,  sir,  undoubtedly.     In  this  island, 

it  is  said,  the  first  wines  were  made  by  (Enopion,  son  of 

Bacchus ;  and  here,  too,  it  is  said  Homer  was  born.     I 

believe  both,  sir.     From  the  island  of  Chios  came  the 


NOTABLES  AND  POTABLES.          27 

first  wine  and  the  first  epic,  sir  ;  hand  in  hand  they  came 
into  the  world,  and  hand  in  hand  they  will  go  out  of  it, 
sir!" 

"  The  Eomans,  Doctor,  were  great  wine-drinkers." 

"  Yes,  my  learned  friend.  Falernian  and  Massic,  sir, 
inspired  Virgil  and  Horace,  and  the  poets  have  made 
the  wines  immortal.  Martial  praises  his  native  wine 
of  Tarragonia,  sir ;  lie  was  an  old  sherry  drinker. 
And  had  the  Italian  vine,  sir,  perished  with  the  Eoman 
Empire,  I  have  my  doubts  whether  Dante,  Pulci,  Tasso, 
Petrarch,  Boiardo,  and  Ariosto  would  have  been  what 
they  now  are  in  the  eyes  of  an  admiring  posterity.  Yes, 
sir,  and  there  is  Redi,  too  !  Why,  the  whole  of  Italy  is 
in  his  lJSacco  in  Toscana.''  " 

"  What  wine  do  you  suppose  Shakspeare  preferred, 
Doctor  ?" 

"  Sack !  my  learned  friend — dry  Sherry  or  Canary,  sir. 
All  the  poets  of  the  Elizabethan  age,  sir,  were  sack-drink 
ers — Ben  Johnson,  Beaumont,  Fletcher,  Marlowe,  Ra 
leigh,  Chapman,  Spencer,  Sydney — so,  too,  was  Herrick, 
as  he  says : 

'  Thy  lies  shall  lack 
Grapes,  before  Herrick  leave  Canarie  Sack.' 

and  the  other  writers  of  his  time,  sir — Carew,  Wither, 
Cowley,  Waller,  Crashaw,  Broome — 

'  All  worldly  care  is  Madness ; 

But  Sack  and  good  Cheat 
Will,  in  spite  of  our  fear, 

Inspire  our  Souls  with  Gladness.' 


28  NOTABLES  AtfD  POTABLES. 

That  was  the  burthen  of  a  song  in  the  time  of  the  Rump, 
sir!  It  was  a  'Rump  and  dozen'  in  those  days,  my 
learned  friend." 

"  One  writer  of  that  period  was  an  exception,  Doctor." 

"  What  writer,  sir  ?" 

"Milton." 

"  Died  of  the  gout,  sir — died  of  the  gout,  sir.  Milton, 
my  dear  friend,  died  of  the  gout." 

"  Cervantes  was  a  Sherry-drinker,  Doctor  ?" 

"Of  course,  my  learned  friend.  And,  no  doubt,  the 
'  Val  do  Penas'  of  La  Mancha  was  a  favorite  beverage 
with  him.  But,  sir,"  continued  Dr.  Bushwhacker  sud 
denly,  sitting  upright  and  holding  his  head  like  a  poised 
avalanche,  ' '  by  speaking  of  Cervantes,  sir,  you  have  put 
a  keystone  into  the  arch  of  my  theory,  sir.  The  Eliza 
bethan  era  should  be  called  the  age  of  Sack,  sir.  Look 
at  those  two  great  writers,  Shakspeare  and  Cervantes, 
each  a  transcendant  genius,  sir  ;  both  living  at  the  same 
time,  sir ;  both  dying  on  the  same  day  sir — on  the  23d 
of  April,  1616." 

"Well,  Doctor?" 

"And  both  drinking  Sack,  sir,  or  Sherry,  constantly. 
'  If  I  had  a  thousand  sons,  the  first  human  principle  I 
would  teach  them  should  be,  to  forswear  thin  potations, 
and  to  addict  themselves  to  Sack.'  Shakspeare,  sir !  King 
Henry  Fourth,  part  second,  act  fourth,  scene  third,  sir!" 

"How  long  did  this  golden  age  of  Sack  continue, 
Doctor  ?" 


NOTABLES  AND  POTABLES.  29 

"  Until  Charles  the  Second  returned  from  France,  and 
brought  Claret  into  fashion.  You  can  see  the  light,  deli 
cate,  fanciful  potable,  sir,  in  the  literature  of  this  period 
as  plain  as  sunlight.  Next  came  the  age  of  Port,  sir,  in 
Queen  Anne's  reign." 

"  Ah !  I  remember,  the  Methuen  treaty." 
"Yes,  sir,  the  treaty  of  1703.  Port  was  encouraged 
by  low  duties,  and  lighter  and  better  wines  of  other  coun 
tries  interdicted  by  enormous  imposts,  and  in  consequence 
we  have  a  new  school  of  literature,  sir.  The  imaginative, 
the  nervous,  the  pathetic,  the  humorous,  and  the  sublime 
departed  with  the  age  of  Sack ;  the  gay,  the  witty,  the 
amorous,  and  the  fanciful,  with  the  age  of  Claret ;  and 
the  artificial,  the  critical,  the  satirical,  and  the  common 
place  arose,  sir,  with  the  age  of  Port !  But  bless  my 
heart,"  said  Doctor  Bushwhacker,  rising  and  looking  at 
his  watch,  "I  must  look  after  my  patients.  The  next 
time  we  meet  we  will  have  a  talk  over  modern  wines  and 
authors,  and  that  will  be  more  interesting,  I  dare  say." 


'Notaries  anlr 

"  The  last  discourse  we  had,  my  learned  friend,"  said 
Dr.  Bushwhacker,  "  was  about  wine  and  wisdom.  What 
shall  be  the  next  ?" 

"Pardon  me,  Doctor,  we  are  not  yet  through  with 


30  NOTABLES  AND  POTABLES. 

that.     We  reached  Port  and  Queen  Anne ;  what  followed 
after  the  age  of  Pope  and  Addison  ?" 

"The  prohibition  of  wine,  sir,"  replied  the  Doctor, 
solemnly,  "led  to  the  substitution  of  spirits.  You  see 
how  Hogarth,  in  his  immortal  pictures,  shows  its  pro 
gress  in  Gin  Lane.  Well,  sir,  if  you  wish  to  see  how 
intimate  are  the  relations  between  drinking  and  thinking, 
mark  the  host  of  clever  literary  vagabonds  of  this  period. 
Genius  in  rags,  sir  ;  genius  with  immortal  thoughts  in  hie 
brain  and  no  crown  to  his  hat ;  Pegasus,  with  everything 
but  his  wings,  in  the  pawnbroker's  shop.  The  long  ex 
hausting  toil  of  literary  occupation,  which  needs  a  natu 
ral  stimulant,  such  as  wine,  (for  men  of  sedentary  habits 
must  have  it,  sir,)  was  relieved  by  stronger  stimulants, 
because  they  were  cheaper.  And  now,  sir,  mark  the  two 
great  geniuses  of  the  middle  of  the  last  century,  Fielding 
and  Smollett ;  see  the  wonderful  power  of  those  writers, 
and  observe  the  characteristic  coarseness  of  their  works, 
and  what  else  is  there  to  say  '  to  point  a  moral,'  farther, 
than  that  Smollett,  with  a  shattered  constitution,  went  to 
Leghorn,  to  die  there;  and  Fielding,  with  a  shattered 
constitution,  went  to  Lisbon,  to  die  there.  Fielding,  at 
the  age  of  47,  and  Smollett  at  the  age  of  50,  sir." 
"  What  would  you  infer  from  that,  Doctor  ?" 
"  Sir,"  replied  the  Doctor,  "  I  leave  you  to  draw  the 
inference.  Now,  sir,  we  come  to  another  epoch.  A 
period,  sir,  of  great  mental  brilliancy,  and  I  wish  you  to 
observe  that  fine  wine  drinking  had  again  become  fash- 


NOTABLES  AND  POTABLES.  31 

ionable.  Claret  was  monstrously  expensive,  but  claret  was 
the  mode.  Now,  sir,  we  have  Fox,  and  Pitt,  and  Sheri 
dan,  and  Burke,  and  Chesterfield,  and  Garrick,  and  Sir 
Joshua  Reynolds,  and  Goldsmith.  And  among  this  bril 
liant  cluster  there  stands  out  conspicuous  a  remarkable 
figure.  Not  that  he  was  greater  than  these,  not  that  hia 
genius  was  superior,  nor  his  wisdom  more  profound,  yet 
still  the  most  conspicuous  figure  in  the  group  was " 

"Dr.  Samuel' Johnson." 

"  Dr.  Jamuel  Johnson,"  echoed  Dr.  Bushwhacker. 
"  Did  you  ever  know,  sir,  leaving  out  a  few  of  our  prom 
inent  hydrophobists,  a  man  so  eminent  for  invective, 
asperity,  bitterness,  insolence,  dogmatic  assumption,  and 
gluttony,  as  the  Ursa  Major  of  English  literature  ?  And, 
sir,  he  was  a  total  abstinent.  To  use  his  own  words :  '  J 
now  no  more  think  of  drinking  wine  than  a  horse  does. 
The  wine  upon  the  table  is  no  more  for  me  than  for  the 
dog  who  is  under  the  table.'  But  he  could  drink,  sir, 
twenty-three  cups  of  tea  at  poor  Mrs.  Thrale's  table  at  a 
sitting,  until  four  o'clock  in  the  morning,  sir,  which  may 
be  set  down  as  a  fair  sample  of  teetotal  debauchery,  my 
learned  friend." 

"  Dr.  Johnson  was  a  very  good  hearted  man,  I 
believe." 

"A  good  man,  sir,  a  good  man,  sir.  His  charity,  hia 
candor,  his  tenderness,  his  attachment  to  his  friends,  hia 
love  of  the  poor,  his  rigid  honesty,  his  piety,  and  his  filial 
affection,  were  wonderful,  sir,  We  all  love  this  Samuel 


32  NOTABLES  AND  POTABLES. 

Johnson.  But,  sir,  there  was  also  another  character  ;  an 
irritable,  uncouth,  imperious,  ill-tempered,  gluttonous, 
rude,  prejudiced,  intolerant,  violent,  unsparing  old  cynic ; 
and  this  Samuel  Johnson  we  do  not  love.  Sir,  human 
nature  has  scarcely  formed  a  character  so  disproportion 
ate.  He  was  a  great  man,  sir,  and  a  great  bear,  sir." 

* '  I  thought  you  said  no  water  drinker  ever  was  a  great 
man,  Doctor?" 

"My  learned  friend,"  replied  the  Doctor,  growing 
slightly  purple,  "Dr.  Samuel  Johnson  was  a  tea  drinker, 
and  used  to  be  a  wine  drinker!  But  hand  me  the 
Madeira,  if  you  please,  and  a  handful  of  filberts.  At  the 
next  dinner  we  will  talk  of  the  writers  of  this  century. 
What  is  this  wine  ?" 

"  Virginia  Reserve,  Doctor." 

"  Then  we  will  drink  it,  sir  ;  Virginia  is  a  noble  State, 
and  it  is  full  of  noble  men — " 

"  And  women,  Doctor." 

"  God  bless  you,  my  dear  friend — and  women  1" 

NotaWes  atrtr 

"What  do  you  think  of  whiskey-punch,  Doctor,  as  a 
potable  ?" 

"Bless  my  heart  1"  said  the  Doctor,  shaking  his  bushy 
mane,  "by  all  means  ;  I  never  refuse  it." 

(Enter  a  tray,  two  lemons,  hot  wa(er}  a  silver  sugar 
bowl,  and  the  Islay.} 


NOTABLES  AND  POTABLES.  33 

"Punch,"  said  Doctor  Bushwhacker,  "was  the 
chief  inspirer  of  the  hearty,  homely,  natural,  vigorous 
writers  of  this  century.  You  see  how  the  great  Sir 
Walter  used  it,  sir ;  there  is  a  touch  of  *  mountain  dew' 
in  his  tenderest  productions,  sir;  the  Heart  of  Mid- 
Lothian  could  never  have  been  written  by  a  cold-water 
drinker — no,  sir  ;  nor  was  it.  I  may  even  go  a  little  farther 
back,  to  a  more  unfortunate  child  of  genius — Burns,  sir ! 
Robert  of  Ayrshire  loved  the  barley  broo — *  not  wisely, 
but  too  well ' — for  himself ;  he  was  improvident ;  but 
then  he  made  posterity  rich.  (A  little  more  of  the  Islay ; 
thank  you.") 

"Byron,  Doctor?" 

"  Drank  gin ;  that  we  know  pretty  well,  I  believe,  my 
learned  friend.  There  is  a  touch  of  juniper  in  all  Byron 
— a  mixture  of  the  bitter  and  the  aromatic." 

"And  Coleridge?" 

"Coleridge,"  said  the  Doctor,  gravely,  with  a  sort  of 
emphatic  spill  of  the  hot  fluid,  "illustrates  my  theory  in 
a  remarkable  manner,  sir — Coleridge  and  De  Quincey, 
both.  What  idea  do  you  have  of  the  Vision  of  Kubla 
Khan,  and  the  Suspiria  de  Profundis,  taken  together? 
My  learned  friend,  he  begins  to  dream  who  is  absorbed^ 
in  the  pages  of  either :  the  world,  yea,  the  great  globe 
itself,  becomes  intangible ;  he  is  floating  away,  on  a  sea 
.  of  ether,  in  space  more  illimitable  than  human  thought 
could  scan  before ;  his  vision  is  dilated,  yet  undefined ; 
the  procession  of  time  sweeps  on,  measured  by  centuries ; 


34  NOTABLES  AND  POTABLE^. 

events  accumulate  with  supernatural  aggregation ;  the 
scenery  by  which  he  is  surrounded  has  surpassed  sublimi 
ty  itself,  and  he  listens  to  the  river  that  runs 

' -through  caverns,  measureless  to  man. 


Down  to  a  SUNLESS  sea.' 

"Well,  Doctor?" 

"OriUM,  sir!"  replied  the  Doctor,  with  awful  solem 
nity. 

"What  of  Charles  Lamb,  Doctor?" 

."Lamb  ?  Dear  Charles,  has  certainly  lisped  of  hot  gin 
and  water  in  his  inimitable  letters,"  replied  the  Doctor, 
' '  or,  as  he  would  say,  '  hot  water,  with  a  s-s-s-entiment 
of  gin.'" 

"That  sounds  Lambish,  Doctor." 

"My  learned  friend,"  replied  Dr.  Bushwhacker,  "I 
know  it ;  I  have  got  Charles  Lamb  by  heart,  sir.  By  the 
way,  a  new  anecdote  of  Elia  :  he  had  a  friend  one  night 
at  No.  4  Inner  Temple  Lane  ;  negus  was  the  potable  of 
the  evening,  from  tenderness  to  Mary's  feelings,  who 
sometimes  shook  her  sisterly  head  at  the  's-s-s-entiment.' 
'It  seems  a  poor  cur  dog  had  attracted  the  attention  of  the 
gentle-hearted  Charles  that  day,  and  he  had  invited  him 
in,  fed  him,  and  tied  him  up  slightly  in  the  little  yard 
back  of  the  house.  Charles  was  talking  in  hie  phospho 
rescent  way  over  the  negus,  when  Mary  interrupted  him: 
*  Charles,  that  dog  yelps  so.'  Elia  flashed  on.  'Charles, 
that  dog—'  'What  i-i-is  it,  Mary?  Oh!  the  dog? 


NOTABLES  AND  POTABLES.          35 

He-lie-he-he's  enjoying  him-s-s-self.'  l  Enjoying  himself, 
Charles  ?'  '  Ye-ye-yes — as  well  as  he  can  with  *  whine  and 
water.' " 

4 'Capital story,  Doctor.     What  of  the  Laureate?" 

"In  reading  Southey,"  replied  Doctor  Bushwhacker, 
' '  you  feel  the  want  of  the  rare  old  vinous  smack  pecu 
liar  to  the  writings  of  authors  of  eminence,  sir.  I  may 
say  the  same,  too,  of  Wordsworth.  Both  were  tolerably 
abstinent ;  but  Southey  had  his  wine-cellar  at  Greta  Hall, 
and  Wordsworth,  in  celebrating  his  first  visit  to  the 
rooms  once  occupied  by  Milton  at  Christ  College,  was  a 
little  overcome,  sir,  by — a — '-his  visit,  sir.  Southey,  in  his 
personal  character,  manners,  and  habits,  must  have  re 
sembled  oui%  dear  Henry  Inman,  sir." 

"AndHazlitt?" 

"Misanthropic,  cynical,  Hazlitt,  sir,  used  to  drink 
black  tea,  sir,  of  the  intensest  strength.  He  is  another 
illustration  of  my  theory,  sir." 

"  And  Keats  ?" 

"  Read  Keats  over,  my  learned  friend ;  and  if  you  can 
unlatch  the  tendrils  of  the  vine  from  any  of  his  super- 
exquisite  poems,  great  or  small,  then  sir,  I  will  bury  my 
>ancet.  What  a  delicate  taste  for  wine  he  must  have  had !" 

"And  Shelley,  Doctor  ?" 

"  My  dear  friend,"  said  the  Doctor,  rising,  and  upset 
ting  his  tumbler,  "  Shelley  never  understood  the  human 
aspect  of  existence.  I  fear  me  he  was  not  a  wine-drinker, 
Suppose  we  say,  or  admit  he  was  a  solitary  exception  ?  n 


fiotatles  antr 

"Do  you  know,"  said  Dr.  Bushwhacker,  as  he  stretch- 
ed  out  his  full  glass  to  be  touched,  "how  this  custom 
originated  ?  —  this  ringing  of  wine-bells  or  kissing  of 
beakers,  sir?" 

We  replied  in  the  negative. 

"Then,  sir,  I  will  tell  you,"  replied  the  Doctor.  "  It 
was  the  invention  of  a  learned  French  philosopher,  to  il 
lustrate  the  five  senses.  The  beautiful  color  of  wine 
delights  the  eye — seeing;  the  delicate  bouquet  gratifies 
the  nose — smelling  ;  the  cool  glass  suggests  a  pleasure  to 
the  fingers— -feeling ;  and,  sir,  by  drinking  it  we  gratify 
exquisitely — the  taste.  Now,  sir,  touch  glasses  for  the 
finest  chime  in  the  world,  that  rings  out  good  fellowship, 
sir,  and  we  have  the  fifth  sense — hearing." 

"  Quite  a  little  poera,  Doctor,  in  five  lines." 

"Put  it  in  verse,  sir,  put  it  inverse — I  give  you  the 
idea." 

"  Apropos,  Doctor,  I  have  a  German  song  here,  trans 
lated  by  a  iriend:  Let  me  read  it  to  you.  (JZditor  reads.) 

"'LOVE,  SONG,  AND  WINE. 

'"DEAE  FUEDERICUS:  A.  Walther  writ  this  in  "quaint 
old  sounding  German."  It  is  done  into  English  by  your 
friend,  HUGH  PYNNSAUEET. 


NOTABLES  AND  POTABLES.          37 

"  '  Through  the  gloom  of  this  sad  life  of  ours, 

Three  glorious  planets  still  shine, 
Serene  from  the  azure  of  heaven, 
And  men  call  them  Love,  Song,  and  Wine, 

"  '  In  the  dear  voice  of  love  all  the  passion 

Of  a  trusting  and  earnest  heart  lies ;  j. 

And  pleasure  by  love  grows  immortal, 
While  sorrow  faints,  withers,  and  dies. 

"  '  Then  wine  gives  a  courage  to  passion, 

Inspires  the  melodious  art, 
And  reddens  the  gold  of  the  sunlight 
That  streams  o'er  the  May  of  the  heart, 

" '  But  song  is  most  noble  of  all  these ; 

To  mortals  it  adds  the  divine ; 
It  thrills  through  our  hearts  like  a  passion, 
And  glows  through  our  senses  like  wine. 

"  '  Then  quench  all  the  rest  of  the  planets, 

Bid  the  golden-rayed  stars  cease  to  shine  ; 
We'll  not  miss  them  so  long  as  God  leaves  us 
Those  heart-stars  of  Love,  Song,  and  Wine."' 

4  Excellent  I 'f  said  the  Doctor,  shaking  his  bushy  head. 
* '  By  the  way,  what  grand  old  songs  those  Rhine  songs 
are !  And  the  vineyards  of  the  Rhine  are  reflected  in 
the  songs  as  they  are  in  the  river.  *  O !  the  pride  of  the  ' 
German  heart  is  this  noble  River !  and  right  it  is ;  for  of 
the  rivers  of  this  beautiful  earth,  there  is  none  so  beauti  • 
ful  as  this.  There  is  hardly  a  league  of  its  whole  course, 
from  its  cradle  in  the  snowy  Alps  to  its  grave  in  the  sands 
of  Holland,  which  boasts  not  its  peculiar  charms.  By 


38  NOTABLES  AND  POTABLES. 

heavens !  if  I  were  a  German,  I  would  be  proud  of  it, 
too ;  and  of  the  clustering  grapes  that  hang  about  its 
temples,  as  it  reels  onwards  through  vineyards  in  a  tri 
umphal  march,  like  Bacchus,  crowned  and  drunken.' 
There,  sir,  what  do  you  think  of  that  ?" 

' '  Grand,  Doctor,  like  the  triumphant  chanting  of  an 
organ.  Who  wrote  it  ?" 

' '  Henry  Wadsworth  Longfellow,  sir !  Hyperion,  sir ! 
Read  it  over,  and  get  it  by  heart." 

"  The  German  writers  all  use  the  wines  of  Fatherland, 
Doctor." 

' '  Nearly  all,  from  Martin  Luther  down.  I  say  nearly 
all — Goethe  was  an  exception.  The  courtly  Goethe  used 
to  drink  the  fine  Burgundies  and  Bordeaux  of  France. 
But  Schiller,  sir,  was  a  Rhine-wine  drinker.  In  fact  his 
writing-table  was  always  supplied  with  the  golden  pota 
ble  of  the  Rhine.  Now,  sir,  we  see  between  these  two 
men  of  eminent  genius,  two  separate  and  distinguishing 
characteristics.  Goethe  was  different  from  all  other 
German  poets — but  Schiller  was  above  all  other  German 
poets,  including  Goethe  himsel£" 


VI. 

into  a 


dear,  learned  friend,"  said  the  Doctor  "  a 
Bowl  of  Lettuce  is  the  Venus  of  the  dinner 
table !  It  rises  upon  the  sight  cool,  moist,  and  beauti 
ful,  like  that  very  imprudent  lady  coming  out  of  the 
sea,  sir  I  And  to  complete  the  image,  sir,  neither  should 
be  dressed  too  much  1" 

When  Dr.  Bushwhacker  had  issued  this  observation, 
he  drew  himself  up  in  a  very  portly  manner,  as  if  he  felt 
called  upon  to  defend  himself  as  well  as  his  image.  Then, 
after  a  short  pause,  he  broke — silence. 

"  Lactuca,  or  lettuce,  is  one  of  the  most  common  vege 
tables  in  the  world ;  it  has  been  known,  sir,  from  time 
immemorial ;  it  was  as  common,  sir,  on  the  tables  of 
the  ancients  as  it  is  now,  and  was  eaten  in  the  same  way, 
sir,  dressed  with  oil  and  vinegar.  We  get,  sir,  from 
Athenaeus  some  idea  of  the  condiments  used :  not  all  of 
these  contributed  to  make  a  salad,  but  it  shows  they  had 
the  materials :  — 

"  '  Dried  grapes,  and  salt,  and  eke  new  wine 
Newly  boiled  down,  and  asatoetida,  (pah !) 
And  cheese,  and  thyme,  and  sesame,  (open  sesame,) 
And  nitre  too,  and  cummin-seed, 
And  sumach,  honey,  and  majorum, 


40  A  PEEP  INTO  A  SALAD  BOWL. 

And  herbs,  and  vinegar,  and  oil, 

And  sauce  of  onions,  mustard,  and  capers  mixed, 

And  parsley,  capers  too,  and  eggs, 

And  lime,  and  cardimums,  and  th'  acid  juice 

Which  comes  from  the  green  fig-tree  ;  besides  lard, 

And  eggs  and  honey,  and  flour  wrapped  in  fig-leaves, 

And  all  compounded  in  one  savory  force-meat.' 

They  had  pepper  too.     Ophelian  says : — 

"  '  Pepper  from  Libya  take,  and  frankincense.' 
So,  sir,  if  you  had  dined  with  Alcibiades,  no  doubt  he 
would  have  dressed  a  salad  for  you  with  Samian  oil,  and 
Sphettian  vinegar,  sir,  pepper  from  Libya,  and  salt  from 
— ah— hm— " 

"  Attica,  doctor." 

"  Attica,  my  learned  friend ;  thank  you.  Now,  sir, 
there  was  one  thing  the  ancients  did  with  lettuce  which 
we  do  not  do.  They  boiled  it,  sir,  and  served  it  up  like 
asparagus ;  so,  too,  did  they  Avith  cucumbers — a  couple 
of  indigestible  dishes  they  were,  no  doubt.  Lettuce,  my 
dear  friend,  should  have  a  quick  growth,  in  the  first  place, 
to  be  good ;  it  should  have  a  rich  mould,  sir,  that  it  may 
spring  up  quickly,  so  as  to  be  tender  and  crisp.  Then, 
sir,  it  should  be  new-plucked,  carried  from  the  garden  a 
few  minutes  before  it  is  placed  upon  the  table.  I  would 
suggest  a  parasol,  sir,  to  keep  the  leaves  cool  until  it 
reaches  the  shadow  of  within-doors.  Then,  sir,  it  must 
be  washed — mind  you — ice-water  I  Then  place  it  upon 
the  table — what  Corinthian  ornament  more  perfect  and 
symmetrical.  Now,  sir,  comes  the  important  part,  the 
DKESSING.  'To  dress  a  salad,'  says  the  learned  Petriia 


A  PEEP  INTO  A  SALAD  BOWL.  41 

Petronius,  '  you  must  have  a  prodigal  to  furnish  the  oil, 
a  counselor  to  dispense  the  salt,  a  miser  to  dole  out  the 
vinegar,  and  a  madman  to  stir  it.'  Commit  that  to 
memory,  my  learned  friend." 

"It  is  down,  Doctor."     (Tablets.} 

"Let  me  show  you,"  continued  Dr.  Bushwhacker, 
"  how  to  dress  a  salad.  Take  a  small  spoonful  of  salt, 
thus:  twice  the  quantity  of  mustard — 'Durham' — thus: 
incorporate :  pour  a  slender  stream  of  oil  from  the  cruet, 
so :  gently  mix  and  increase  the  action  by  degrees," 
(head  of  hair  in  commotion,  and  face  briUiant  in  color  ;) 
"  dear  me  !  it  is  very  warm — now,  sir,  oil  in  abundance, 
so  ;  a  dash  of  vinegar,  very  light,  like  the  last  touches  of 
the  artist ;  and,  sir,  we  have  the  dressing.  Now,  take  up 
the  lettuce  by  the  stalk !  Break  ofi'  the  leaves — leaf  by 
leaf — shake  off  the  water,  replace  it  in  the  salad-bowl, 
pepper  it  slightly,  pour  on  the  dressing,  and  there  you* 
have  it,  sir." 

"  Doctor,  is  that  orthodox  ?"  ' 

"  Sir,"  replied  Dr.  Bushwhacker,  holding  the  boxwood 
spoon  in  one  hand  and  the  box-wood  fork  in  the  other  ; 
' '  the  eyes  of  thirty  centuries  are  looking  down  upon  me. 
I  know  that  Frenchmen  will  sprinkle  the  lettuce  with  oil 
until  it  is  thoroughly  saturated ;  then,  sir,  a  little  pepper ; 
then,  sir,  salt  or  not,  as  it  happens ;  then,  sir,  vinaigre 
by  the  drop— all  very  well.  Our  people,  sir,  in  the  State 
of  New  Jersey,  will  dress  it  with  salt,  vinegar,  and  pep 
per — perfectly  barbarous,  my  learned  friend  ;  then  comes 


42  A  PEEP  INTO  A  SALAD  BOWL. 

the  elaborate  Englishman  ;  and  our  Pennsylvania  friend, 
the  Rev.  Sidney  Smith,  sir,  gives  us  a  recipe  in  verse, 
that  shows  how  they  do  it  there,  and  at  the  same  time, 
exhibits  the  deplorable  ignorance  of  that  very  peculiar 
people.  I  quote  from  memory,  sir :  — 

"  '  Two  large  potatoes,  passed  through  kitchen  sieve 
Smoothness  and  softness  to  the  salad  give  ; 
Of  mordant  mustard  add  a  single  spoon. 
Distrust  the  condiment  that  bites  too  soon, 
But  deem  it  not,  Lady  of  herbs,  a  fault 
To  add  a  double  quantity  of  salt. 
Four  times  the  spoon  with  oil  of  Lucca  crown, 
And  twice  with  vinegar  procured  from  town ; 
True  flavor  needs  it,  and  your  poet  begs 
The  pounded  yellow  of  two  well-boiled  eggs. 
Let  onion  atoms  lurk  within  the  bowl, 
And,  scarce  suspected,  animate  the  whole. 
Then  lastly  in  the  flavored  compound  toss 
One  magic  spoonful  of  anchovy  sauce. 
O  great  and  glorious !  O  herbaceous  treat ! 
'T  would  tempt  the  dying  anchorite  to  eat ; 
Back  to  the  world  he'd  turn  his  weary  soul, 
And  plunge  his  fingers  in  the  Salad  Bowl !' 

Now,  sir,  I  have  tried  that,  and  a  compound  more  execra 
ble  is  not  to  be  thought  of.  No,  sir !  Take  some  of  my 
salad,  and  see  if  you  do  not  dream  afterwards  of  the 
Greek  mythology." 


vn 


jfollet. 


>Y  dear  friend,"  said  the  Doctor,  holding  his 
cup  in  the  left  hand  thumb  and  forefinger, 
with  the  other  three  fingers  stretched  out  over  the  rest 
of  the  table,  "I  never  inhale  the  fragrance  of  coffee 
without  thinking,  of  the  old  fashioned  coffee  pot,  or 
'Madame  Follet,'  as  dear  Miss  Bremer  used  to  call  it. 
Do  you  know,  sir  —  and  I  suppose  you  know  every  thing 
—  do  you  know,  sir,  there  are  a  great  many  old  fashioned 
people  in  the  world  ?" 

We  replied,  the  fact  was  not  to  be  disputed. 

"  Old  fashioned  people,  sir  ;  old  fashioned  in  dress,  in 
speech,  in  politeness,  in  ideas,  in  every  thing.  And,  sir, 
not  long  since,  I  had  occasion  to  visit  two  old  ladies,  sir  ; 
I  went  down  stairs  to  the  basement  dining  room,  sir, 
without  ceremony,  sir,  and  there  I  found  the  antiquated 
virgins  over  their  coffee,  sir  ;  and  in  the  middle  of  the 
table  there  was  the  old  fashioned  tin  coffee  pot,  sir, 
scoured  as  bright  as  sand  could  make  it,  with  a  great  big 
superannuated  spout,  and  a  great  broad  backed  handle, 
sir,  and  a  great  big,  broad  bottom,  sir,  as  broad,  sir,  as 


44  MADAM  FOLLETT. 

the  top  of  the  great  bell  crowned  hat  I  used  to  wear 
when  I  went  to  visit  them  as  a  spruce  young  buck,  in  the 
year  eighteen  hundred  and  twenty,  sir."  Here  the  Doc 
tor's  spectacles  fairly  glistened  again. 

' 'Well,  Doctor?" 

" Sir,"  replied  Dr.  Bushwhacker,  "there  was  plenty 
of  silver  in  the  cupboard,  plenty ;  great  pots,  and  coffee 
urns  of  solid  metal,  sir,  with  massive  handles  to  match ; 
but  they  were  so  old  fashioned  as  to  prefer  the  old, 
scoured,  broad  bottomed  tin  pot,  sir,  and  with  reason, 
too,  sir." 

"  Give  us  the  reason,  thereof,  Doctor,  if  you  please." 

"Well,  sir,  one  of  the  sisters  apologized  for  the  coffee 
pot  in  a  still,  small  sort  of  a  voice,  a  little  cracked  and 
chipped  by  constant  use,  and  said,  the  reason  why  they 
drank  their  coffee  out  of  that  pot  was  because  it  never 
seemed  to  taste  so  well  out  of  anything-  else." 

"Why  not,  Doctor?" 

"Why  not?  Easily  enough  explained,  sir;  we  never 
make  coffee  in  a  silver  urn,  and  when  we  pour  it  from  the 
vessel  in  which  it  is  made  into  another,  we  lose  half  the 
aroma,  sir.  Coffee  is  of  most  delicate  and  choice  flavor, 
sir ;  very  few  know  how  to  make  it  or  to  use  it.  The 
proper  way  to  make  good  coffee,  sir,  is  to  roast  it  care 
fully  in  a  cylinder  over  a  charcoal  fire,  until  it  is  of  a  light 
brown  color ;  then  the  cylinder  should  be  taken  off  the 
fire  and  turned  gently  until  the  berries  are  thoroughly 
cooled.  The  best  part  of  the  aroma  is  dissipated,  sir,  by 


MADAM  FOLLETT.  45 

the  abominable  practice  of  turning  out  the  coffee  in  an 
open  dish  so  soon  as  it  is  roasted.     Why,  sir,  any  body 
can  see  that  the  finest  part  of  it  escapes ;  you  can  smell  it, 
sir,  in  every  crack  and  corner  of  the  house.  When  cooled, 
it  should  be  put  intd  a  mortar  and  beat  to  powder.    A  cof 
fee  mill  only  cracks  the  grains,  but  a  mortar  pounds  out 
the  essential  oil.  Then,  sir,  put  it  into  an  old  fashioned  tin 
coffee  pot,  pour  on  the  hot  water,  stand  it  over  a  fire,  not 
too  hot ;  let  it  simmer  gently.     If  your  fire  is  too  hot,  it 
will  burn  the  coffee  and  spoil  it.    Then,  sir,  take  Madam 
Follett  fresh  from  the  fire,  stand  Jier  on  the  table,  and  if 
you  want  an  appreciative  friend,  send  for  me ! " 
"What  kind  of  coffee  is  the  best,  Doctor ?" 
"Mocha,  sir,   from  Arabia  Felix.     The  first   Mocha 
coffee  that  ever  reached  the  Land  of  the  Free  and  the 
Home  of  the  Brave  direct,  sir,  came  in  a  ship  belonging 
to  Captain  Derby,  of  Salem,  in  the  year  1801." 
* '  When  was  coffee  first  used  in  Europe,  Doctor  ?" 
"  That,  my  learned  friend,  is  one  of  *  the  two  or  three 
things  to  suggest  conversation  at  the  tea  table,'  as  our 
friend  Willis  has  it,     It  is  a  matter  of  dispute,  my  learn 
ed  friend,  and  it  will  probably  be  settled  after  the  com 
mentators  have  agreed  upon  the  proper  way  of  spelling 
the  name  of  Shakspeare,  Shaksper,   Shagsper,  or  what 
ever  you  call  him." 

"How  early  was  coffee  in  use  in  the  world?" 
"  Slier baddin,  an  Arab  author,  asserts  that  the  first 
man  who  drank  coffee  was  a  certain  Mufti, 'of  Aden,  who 


46  MADAM  FOLLETT. 

lived  in  the  ninth  century  of  the  Hegira,  about  the  year 
1500,  my  learned  friend.  So  says  Dr.  Doran.  The  pop 
ular  tradition  is,  that  the  superior  of  a  Dervish  commu 
nity,  observing  the  effects  of  coffee  berries,  when  eaten 
by  some  goats,  rendering  them  more  lively  and  skittish 
than  before,  prescribed  it  for  the  brotherhood,  in  order 
to  cure  them  of  drowsiness  and  indolence.  Dickens,  in 
Household  Words,  gives  a  capital  account  of  the  old  cof 
fee  houses  of  London.  By  the  way,  there  is  an  account, 
also,  in  Table  Traits.  Here  is  the  book. 

"  '  Lend  me  thine  ears.' — Shagsper. 

"  *  The  coffee  houses  of  England  take  precedence  of 
those  of  France,  though  the  latter  have  more  enduringly 

flourished.  In  1652,  a  Greek,  in  the  service  of  an  Eng 
lish  Turkey  merchant,  opened  a  house  in  London.  '  1 
have  discovered  his  hand-bill,'  says  Mr.  Disraeli,  '  in 
which  he  sets  forth  the  virtue  of  the  coffee  drink,  first 
publiquely  made  and  sold  in  England,  by  Pasqua  Rosee, 
of  St.  Michael's  Alley,  Cornhill,  at  the  sign  of  his  own 
head.'  Mr.  Peter  Cunningham  cites  a  MIS.  of  Oldys'  in 
his  possession,  in  which  some  fuller  details  of  much  in 
terest  are  given.  Oldys  says :  '  The  first  use  of  coffee  in 
England  was  known  in  1657,  when  Mr.  Daniel  Edwards, 
a  Turkey  merchant,  brought  from  Smyrna  to  London  one 
Pasqua  tlosee,  a  Ragusan  youth,  who  prepared  this  drink 
for  him  every  morning.  But  the  novelty  thereof  drawing 
too  much  company  to  him,  he  allowed  his  said  servant, 
with  another  of  his  son-in-law's,  to  sell  it  publicly ;  and 
they  set  up  the  first  coffee  house  in  London,  in  St.  Mi* 
chad's  Alley,  Cornhill.  But  they  separating,  Pasqua 
kept  in  the  house  ;  and  he  who  had  been  his  partner  ob 
tained  leave  to  p'tch  a  tent,  and  sell  the  liquor,  in  St. 


MADAM  FOLLETT.  47 

Michael's  church  yard.'  Aubrey,  in  his  Anecdotes,  states 
that  the  first  vender  of  coffee  in  London  was  one  Bow 
man,  coachman  to  a  Turkey  merchant,  named  Hodges, 
who  was  the  father-in-law  of  Edwards,  and  the  partner 
of  Pasqua,  who  got  into  difficulties,  partly  by  his  not  be 
ing  a  freeman,  and  who  left  the  country.  Bowman  was 
not  only  patronized,  but  a  magnificent  contribution  of 
one  thousand  sixpences  was  presented  to  him,  where 
with  he  made  great  improvements  in  his  coffee  house. 
Bowman  took  an  apprentice,  (Paynter,)  who  soon  learnt 
the  mystery,  and  in  four  years  set  up  for  himself.  The 
coffee  houses  soon  became  numerous ;  the  principal  were 
Farres',  the  Rainbow,  at  the  Inner  Temple  Gate,  and 
John's,  in  Fuller's  Rents,' 

"  There,  sir ;  and  now,  my  learned  friend,  I  must  pay 
a  visit  to  that  charming  lady,  Mrs.  Potiphar,  who  is  suf 
fering  severely  with  a  neuralgia." 


vm. 


OR  my  part,"  said  the  Doctor,  "I  do  not  see 
liow  we  could  get  along  without  them.  The 
old  phrases,  the  idioms,  the  apothegms  of  a  people  are 
the  gold  and  silver  coins  of  their  language,  bearing  a  pro 
portionate  value,  as  many  hundred  times,  to  the  common 
stock  of  words,  as  these  do  to  the  copper  currency.  Sir, 
if  you  will  get  the  'Lessons  on  Proverbs,'  by  Richard 
Chevenix  Trench,  you  will  find  you  have  a  sub-treasury 
of  wisdom,  my  learned  friend." 

"Do  you  not  think,  Doctor,  there  is  a  coarseness  in 
familiar  proverbs  that  diminishes  their  value  in  polite 
society  ?" 

"  No,  sir,  I  do  not  think  so,"  replied  the  Doctor  vehe 
mently.  "  To  be  sure,  there  may  be,  here  and  there  one 
in  which  an  allusion  might  offend  a  sensitive  mind ;  but, 
generally  speaking,  they  are  rather  robust,  instead  of 
coarse,  strong  without  being  indelicate.  Cervantes  felic 
itously  calls  them  '•Sentencias  brevas  sacadas  de  la  luenga 
y  discreta  eocperiencia? — short  sentences  drawn  from  long 
and  wise  experience.  Common  enough  are  they  among 


OLD    PHRASES.  49 

uneducated  people,  but  not  the  less  valuable  for  that  rea 
son,  sir ;  proverbs  may  be  called  the  literature  of  the 
illiterate — another  mouthful  of  the  Mumm,  sir — thank 
you." 

" How  do  you  like  that  wine,  Doctor?" 

"Grand,  sir;  glorious,  sir;  'Mumm's  the  word,' sir. 
If  Shakspeare  were  living,  sir,  he  would  forswear  sack, 
and  say  '  Jfumm? — *  a  jewel  of  a  wine,  sir — Jewel 
Mumm." 

"  The  phrase  you  have  just  used,  Doctor,  is  a  common 
one." 

"  'Mumm's  the  word  ?'  True,  my  learned  friend.  Dr. 
Johnson,  that  stupendous  lexicographer,  remarks  of  the 
word  mumm,  it  may  be  observed  that  when  it  is  pro 
nounced  it  leaves  the  lips  closed,  thus,"  (lips  in  sculptured 
silence.) 

"How  did  the  phrase  originate,  Doctor?" 

"  That,  sir,  is  a  question  I  cannot  answer.  There  are 
phrases,  sir,  beyond  the  scope  of  records,  written  or 
printed,  so  old,  sir,  that,  to  use  the  words  of  our  friend 
Blackstone,  '  the  memory  of  man  runneth  not  to  the  con- 
i  trary' — they  were  always  in  use.  Others  we  can  trace  at 
once  to  their  originals  ;  such  as,  'How  we  apples  swim,* 
to  a  fable  in  -<Esop  ;  or,  *  To  see  ourselves  as  others  see 
us,'  to  a  poem  of  Burns ;  there  are  legions  of  phrases 
from  the  Bible,  not  one  of  which  inculcates  a  sentiment 
not  divine  in  its  humanity ;  there  are  scores  from  Shaks 
peare,  scores  from  Pope,  scores  from  Young,  some  from 
4 


50  OLD   PHRASES. 

Byron,  from  Milton,  Cowper,  Thomson,  Campbell,  Gold 
smith,  Spenser,  Addison,  Congreve,  Prior,  Sir  Philip 
Sidney,  Gray,  Collins,  Cowley,  our  own  poets,  sir — and 
Daniel  Webster,  sir,  Halleck  and  Irving." 

"  There  is  no  fear  of  a  language,  Doctor,  in  which  such 
coin  is  current." 

"No,  sir;  nor  of  a  people!  But  there  are  other 
phrases  which,  to  the  undisciplined  ear,  seem  coarse  and 
vulgar,  yet  involving  a  story  clever  enough  in  itself  to  bo 
preserved." 

"  For  instance  ?" 

' '  For  instance,  '  The  gray  mare  is  the  better  horse.' 
We  know  very  well  the  line  is  in  Prior's  Epilogue  to 
Lucius ;  but  the  story  from  which  the  phrase  is  derived 
is  something  like  this :  A  gentleman,  who  had  seen  the 
world,  one  day  gave  his  eldest  son  a  span  of  horses,  a 
chariot,  and  a  basket  of  eggs.  'Do  you,'  said  he  to  the 
boy,  '  travel  upon  the  high  road  until  you  come  to  the 
first  house  in  which  there  is  a  married  couple.  If  you 
find  the  husband  is  the  master  there,  give  him  one  of  the 
horses.  If,  on  the  contrary,  the  wife  is  the  ruler,  give 
her  an  egg.  Return  at  once  if  you  part  with  a  horse, 
but  do  not  come  back  so  long  as  you  keep  both  horses, 
and  there  is  an  egg  remaining.'  Away  went  the  boy  full 
of  his  mission,  and  just  beyond  the  borders  of  his  father's 
estate  lo  !  a  modest  cottage.  He  alighted  from  the  char 
iot  and  knocked  at  the  door.  The  good  wife  opened  it 
for  him  and  curtesied. •  'Is  your  husband  at  home?1 


OLD    PJIKASES.  51 

'  No  ;'  but  she  would  call  him  from  the  hay  field.  In  he 
came,  wiping  his  brows.  The  young  man  told  them  his 
errand.  '  Why,'  said  the  wife,  bridling  and  rolling  the 
corner  of  her  apron,  *  I  always  do  as  John  wants  me  to 
do ;  he  is  my  master — -an't  you,  John  ?'  To  which  John 
replied,  'Yes.'  '  Then,'  said  the  boy,  '  I  am  to  give  you 
a  horse ;  which  will  you  take ?'  ' I  think,'  said  John,  '  as 
how  that  bay  gelding  seems  to  be  the  one  as  would  suit 
me  the  best.'  '  If  we  have  a  choice,  husband,'  said  the 
wife,  ll  think  the  gray  mare  will  suit  us  better.'  'No,' 
replied  John,  'the  bay  for  me;  he  is  more  square  in 
front,  and  his  legs  are  better.'  'Now,'  said  the  wife,  'I 
don't  think  so  ;  the  gray  mare  is  the  better  horse  ;  and  I 
shall  never  be  contented  unless  I  get  that  one.'  '  Well,' 
said  John,  '  if  your  mind  is  sot  on  it,  I'll  give  up ;  we'll 
take  the  gray  mare.'  '  Thank  you,'  said  the  boy  ;  '  allow 
me  to  give  you  an  egg  from  this  basket ;  it  is  a  nice  fresh 
one,  and  you  can  boil  it  hard  or  soft  as  your  wife  will 
permit.'  The  rest  of  the  story  you  may  imagine;  the 
young  man  came  home  with  both  horses,  but  not  an  egg 
remained  in  his  basket." 

"  That  is  a  scandalous  story,  Doctor." 

"True,  my  learned  friend;  but  after  we  finish  this 
Mumin,  I  will  tell  you  another  with  a  better  moral." 


©Or 


"Let  us,"  said  the  Doctor,  "take  up  the  familiar, 
every  day  language  —  the  language,  sir,  not  of  the  draw 
ing  room,  but  of  the  street  —  the  language,  not  of  the  beau, 
but  of  the  b'hoy,  sir,  and  dissect  it."  Here  the  Doctor 
roiled  up  his  wristbands,  and  armed  himself  with  a  fruit- 
knife,  in  the  most  formidable  manner.  "Let  us,"  he 
continued,  tapping  the  ringing  rim  of  the  finger-bowl, 
"  dissect  it,  sir,  and  expose  its  muscles,  ligaments,  and 
tendons,  its  veins  and  its  arteries,  its  viscera,  its  nerves 
and  its  ganglionic  system,  and  sir,  we  will  find  that  these 
old  phrases  are  the  very  bones  of  the  system,  sir,  the 
framework  that  sustains  and  supports  all  the  rest.  Yes, 
my  learned  friend,  take  even  a  tissue  of  slang,  and  you 
will  find  it  full  of  marrow-bones  !" 

"Among  some  people  the  range  of  ideas  being  limited 


"The  range  of  ideas  being  limited,"  interrupted  the 
Doctor,  "the  range  of  expression  is  necessarily  limited 
also.  Yet,  you  will  see  how  readily,  even  with  a  small 
stock  of  words,  the  b'hoys  make  themselves  understood. 
One  word  passes  muster  for  many,  by  dint  of  inflection 
and  gesture :  a  single  phrase  sir,  will  often  convey  as 
many  separate  and  opposite  meanings,  as  a  single  string 
on  Ole  Bull's  violin  will  express  separate  and  opposite 


OLD   PHRASES.  53 

sentiments.  Why,  sir,  the  slang  phrase,  *  that's  so/  is 
used  to  signify  affirmation,  confirmation,  doubt,  interro 
gation,  irony,  triumph,  and  despair ;  and  a  host  besides 
of  shades  of  sense  relative  to  the  subject  in  hand. 
'  You'd  better  believe  it,'  is  sometimes  a  taunt,  or  a  men 
ace,  as  the  case  may  be ;  sometimes  a  grave  and  weighty 
piece  of  advice ;  and  sometimes  significant  of  its  own 
opposite — that  is,  'You  had  better  not  believe  it.'  Now 
my  learned  friend,  if  we  could  only  trace  these  phrases, 
and  betimes  we  will,  we  would  find  them  to  be,  not 
the  property  of  this  generation,  but  the  original  expres 
sions  of  a  people  very  much  fore-shortened  in  language, 
some  centuries  behind  the  curtain  of  Shakspeare  ;  or  else 
the  result,  the  quotient,  of  some  old  story,  from  which 
every  thing  else  had  been  subtracted." 

' '  Doctor,  pardon  me  for  interrupting  you." 
"Willis,"  continued  the  Doctor,  "did  originate  some 
phrases,  sir,  such  as  '  the  upper  ten  thousand.'  You  see 
how  it  has  been  trimmed  down  to  'the  upper  ten,'  and 
by  and  by  it  will  be  used  to  signify  a  class  simply,  with 
out  any  reference  to  its  previous  purport.  And  in  this 
connection  the  facile  terminal  'cfora,'  which  so  often  has 
brought  up  the  rear-guard  of  a  sentence  in  the  papers,  is 
due  to  Willis,  who  struck  it  out  in  'japonicadom' — a 
most  happy  and  felicitous  phrase." 
"  Doctor,  I  would  like " 

"  Some  authors  write  whole  volumes  without  a  catch* 
word " 


54  OLD    PHRASES. 

"  To  ask  if  you " 


"  Others  again  press  a  score  of  them  in  a " 

"Can  tell  me " 

"Chapter.     Well,  sir?" 

"  Whether  you  can  tell  me  what  was  the  origin  of  tho 
phrase — '  a  fish  story? ' : 

"Certainly,"  responded  Dr.  Bushwhacker;  "every 
body  knows  that :  An  old  Indian,  who  had  been  convert 
ed  by  the  missionaries,  got  along  very  well  as  far  as 
'  Jonah  and  the  whale,'  where  he  faltered  a  little,  but 
finally  passed  over  that,  and  went  on.  At  last  he  reached 
the  history  of  Shadrach,  Meshech,  and  Abednego,  in  the 
fiery  furnace.  'Me  no  believe  that,'  said  the  Indian. 
'  But  you  must  believe  it,'  said  the  missionaries.  The 
Indian  dissented ;  but  the  missionaries  cleved  to  the  point 
of  faith  at  issue.  At  last,  after  a  prolonged  debate,  in 
which  the  Indian  distinguished  himself  by  a  display  of 
natural  eloquence,  the  old  aboriginal  wound  up  the  string 
by  saying,  l  Now,  I  tell  you,  me  no  believe  that ;  and 
since  you  make  me  mad,  me  no  believe  too  that  fish 
story  ! ' 

"  That  is  the  origin  of  the  phrase,  sir,  and  it  is  not 
only  original  but  aboriginal." 


IX. 

art. 


)Y  learned  friend,"  said  the  Doctor,  glaring 
at  us  through  his  critical  specs,  "  I  have 
seen  both  exhibitions,  the  British  and  the  French.  I  was 
delighted  sir,  delighted  with  the  French  exhibition.  The 
people  of  France,  sir,  are  essentially  an  aesthetic  people ; 
they  strive  to  please  you  sir,  and  they  succeed  in  pleasing 
you ;  they  rarely  widen  their  callipers  beyond  the  limits 
of  decorum ;  they  kill  their  tragedy  heroes  in  abattoirs 
behind  the  scenes,  and  never  venture  to  intrude  upon  us 
those  coarser  emotions  which  are  independent  of  taste 
and  politeness ;  so,  sir,  I  visited  the  French  exhibition 
with  pleasure,  and  came  away  gratified.  I  do  not  remem 
ber  any  single  pictures  except  those  of  Rosa  Bonheur, 
and  they  struck  me,  perhaps,  because  they  reminded  me 
of  something  I  had  seen  in  nature  that  was  familiar ;  but 
otherwise,  I  have  only  a  general  impression,  sir,  of  pleas 
ure,  of  great  pleasure.  It  was  far  different,  sir,  with  the 
British  exhibition.  I  was  not  pleased  with  it,  sir,  not 
pleased  with  it.  I  came  away,  sir,  with  my  emotions  ex 
cited,  and  in  a  state  of  disagreement.  You  know  my  love 
of  Shakspeare,  sir !  Well,  sir,  I  never  felt  such  divine  pity 


£6  ART. 

for  King  Lear,  such  exquisite  sympathy  for  Juliet  (out 
of  the  book),  as  I  felt  when  I  saw  those  pictures  of  F 
Madox  Brown,  and  Frederick  Leighton.  As  for  the  bulk 
of  the  rest,  the  modern  school  of  British  Art,  it  is  ex 
pressed  forcibly  in  a  line,  so  contemptuous,  sir,  that  from 
my  love  of  the  aesthetic  and  the  agreeable,  I  am  almost 
afraid  to  quote  it.  But,  sir,  as  an  arbiter  of  matters  of 
taste,  I  cannot  refrain  from  saying  of  the  modern  school 
of  British  Art :  that — 

1 Extreme  exactness  is  the  sublime  of  fools,' 

and,  sir,  you  may  try  the  measure  by  the  spots  on  the 
sailor  boy's  breeches,  or  the  twigs  on  any  one  of  the  pre- 
Raphaelite  trees,  and  if  you  are  not  convinced  of  the 
truth  of  the  above  maxim,  then  try  it  on  Ruskin's  own 
picture,  '  Study  of  a  block  of  Gneiss,  Valley  of  Cha- 
mouni,  ^Switzerland,  No.  155.'  Ruskin,  sir,  is  a  great 
writer,  a  great  rhetorician ;  his  persuasive  powers  are 
wonderful,  dazzling,  but  not  reliable,  sir.  Put  a  pen  in 
his  hand  and  Ruskin  can  make  his  mark.  Put  a  pallet 
on  his  thumb,  and  Ruskin  sinks  into  the  lowest  depths 
of  Ruskinism." 

"My  dear  Doctor!" 

"Yes,  sir,  into  the  lowest  depths  of  Ruskinism.  Ilia 
tre-foil,  cinque-foil  windows  are  very  nice  things  in  print, 
and  we  admire  them;  as  well  as  his  lichens,  mosses, 
striae,  and  the  oxide  stains  of  his  wonderful  gneiss  bould 
ers  ;  but,  sir,  what  is  the  use  of  having  Ruskin's  meagre 
representation  of  a  lichen  covered,  metallic  stained  boulder 


ART.  57 

from  an  obscure  corner  of  the  globe,  in  our  parlor,  when 
we  can  have  the  real  article  from  the  richest  mineral 
kingdom  on  earth,  just  by  rolling  it  in  ?" 

''But  there  is  the  sentiment,  Doctor." 

44 The  sentiment?  My.  learned  friend,  if  there  is  m 
sentiment  in  the  original,  what  can  you  look  for  in  the 
mere  copy  ?" 

"But,  Doctor,  what  do  you  think  of  Holman  Hunt's 
«  Light  of  the  World  ?'  " 

''An  exquisite  bit  of  art,  a  happy  adaptation  of  the 
school  to  a  single  figure;  lucky  was  it  for  him  that  he 
had  no  other  figures  in  the  background." 

"Why,  Doctor?" 

"Because  the  school  has  no  idea  of  atmosphere,  sir — 
atmosphere,  distance,  perspective !  Look  at  the  back 
ground  figures  in  his  picture  of  St.  Agnes'  Eve ;  the 
features,  the  expression  of  every  face,  painted  as  elabo 
rately  as  if  they  were  in  the  foreground.  Is  that  the  way 
nature  exhibits  her  panorama?  Sir,  so  far  from  features, 
or  the  expression  of  features,  being  recognizable  at  that 
distance,  I  can  tell  you  that  it  would  be  difficult  to  say 
whether  there  were  men  or  women,  yes,  bipeds  or  quad 
rupeds  in  that  perspective." 

"Nevertheless,  Doctor,  you  must  admit  that  they  aro 
very  beautiful  works  of  art.  Just  think  of  the  man  who 
can  paint  such  pictures.  Is  he  not  very  much  elevated 
by  genius  above  his  fellows?" 

"Unquestionably  he   is,  and    when   all   that   is   now 


58  ART. 

claimed  for  him  lias  passed  through  the  ordeal  of  detrac 
tion,  the  pre-Raphaelite,  or  post-Raphaelite  painter,  will 
find  a  proper  niche,  when  all  the  symbols  of  his  art  are, 
to  quote  Shakspeare : 

"  '  In  the  deep  bosom  of  the  ocean  buried.' 

And,  by  the  way,  why  not  have  a  pre-Shakspearean 
school!  Why  not!" 

"Doctor,  that  is  a  capital  idea." 

"My  learned  and  dear  friend,  I  was  only  in  jest.  A 
school !  My  dear  friend,  yon  have  never  yet,  and  never 
will  see  a  school  of  great  men.  Intellect  of  the  first  class 
is  great — independent — single — alone  !  It  has  no  scho 
lastic  limits,  no  pedantiy,  no  peers.  The  moment  art 
ceases  to  appeal  to  sympathies  and  emotions,  and  contents 
itself  with  the  bare  representation  of  forms,  it  comes  in 
competition  with  the  photograph,  and  at  once  is  beaten 
by  the  more  elaborate  delineation  of  the  camera." 

"But,  Doctor,  you  forget  the  symbols  of  the  pre- 
Raphaelite  school!" 

"Symbols,  symbols!  and  of  a  school?  What!  has 
this  age  of  intelligence  to  be  instructed  by  symbols  of  a 
school  of  painters  ?  If  they  are  able  to  convey  ideas  by 
symbols,  why  do  they  write  the  names  of  their  pictures 
in  Saxon  characters  on  the  frames?  'Why  not  let  the 
symbols  explain  the  symbols  ?  They  teach  us  what  art 
is,  by  symbols!  Faugh!  If  that  is  high  art,  let  me 
begin  with  the  rudiments,  and  study  it  out — from  the 
alphabet  of  a  Chinese  teacup." 


X. 

accidental  3&esemWances. 

u.  Bushwhacker  came  to  us,  to-day,  in  an  old  fash- 
ioned,  full  circle  blue  Spanish  cloak,  a  fur  cap,  a 
carpet  bag,  and  a  small  package  of  pemmican  in  his 
hand.  He  deposited  these  articles  in  the  hall,  shook  the 
hand  of  my  wife  impressively,  and  caressed  the  children 
with  warmth  and  tenderness.  The  Doctor  is  usually 
boisterous  with  children,  but  to-day  he  was  subdued. 
Moreover,  he  gave  each  of  them  a  keep-sake.  To  Bessy 
a  stalactite  from  the  grotto  of  Antiparos ;  to  Lucy  a  little 
paper  of  sand  from  the  Desert  of  Sahara ;  Tom  had  a 
vial  of  water  from  the  pool  of  Bethesda ;  and  Jack  a 
twig  of  ivy  from  Mel  rose  Abbey.  Even  the  baby  was 
not  forgotten,  for  he  had  brought  it  a  Chinese  rattle,  that 
no  doubt  was  contemporary  with  the  age  of  Confucius  ; 
and  to  my  wife  he  presented  a  little  book  made  of  papy 
rus,  inscribed  with  Coptic  characters,  which  might  have 
been  decyphered  had  they  not  been  obliterated  by  time. 
Then,  putting  his  hand  in  his  left  vest  pocket,  he  drew 
forth  a  present  for  me.  It  was  his  lancet,  which,  he 
assured  me,  had  bled  more  respectable  people  than  any 
other  lancet  in  fashionable  practice.  "My  learned 
friend,"  said  he,  "you  have  no  idea  of  the  fees  which 


60  ACCIDENTAL  RESEMBLANCES. 

have  accumulated  upon  the  point  of  this  instrument 
But  the  old  practice,  sir,  the  old,  venerable,  respectable 
practice  is  vanishing  in  these  new  fangled,  latter-da}! 
lights  of  science.  The  good  old  days  of  calomel  and 
tartar  emetic  have  departed.  The  late  Surgeon  General 
broke  down  the  time-consecrated  faith  in  these  specifics, 
and  now,  sir,  we  have  to  study  the  physical  idiosyncrasies 
of  a  patient  before  we  prescribe,  as  diligently  as  lawyers 
do  when  working  up  a  case  in  their  profession.  The  good 
old  easy  days  are  gone,  sir — but  I  hear  the  dinner  bell !" 

The  Doctor  was  silent  during  the  repast.  But  a  bottle 
of  "Old  Wanderer,  1822,"  as  bright  as  a  topaz,  drew 
him  out.  Poising  the  straw  stem  glass  between  his 
thumb  and  forefinger,  and  viewing  the  shining  fluid  with 
the  eye  of  a  connoisseur,  he  broke  forth — "My  learned 
friend,  do  you  suppose  that  the  science  of  chemistry  has 
advanced  so  far  that  this  wine  could  be  imitated  even  b) 
aLiebig?" 

"  Certainly  not,  Doctor.  To  any  person  of  fine  taste, 
all  imitations  must  pass  for  imitations.  They  no  more 
resemble  the  original  than " 

' '  Imitations  usually  do.  I  know  what  you  want  to  say, 
my  learned  friend.  All  plagiarisms  are  as  inferior  to 
originals,  as  copies  of  great  pictures,  or  plaster  casts  of 
great  sculptures,  are  inferior  to  the  works  which  the  pen 
cil  or  the  chisel,  in  the  hands  of  a  great  master  of  his  art, 
has  accomplished.  This  is  so  well  understood  in  the 
mere  sensuous  works  of  painters  and  sculptors  that  even 


ACCIDENTAL  RESEMBLANCES.  61 

the  most  accurate  copy  of  a  Raphael,  or  of  a  Leonard!  di 
Vinci,  is  nothing  worth  comparing  with  the  original. 
But  how  is  it  with  literature,  my  learned  friend  ?" 

"  I  do  not  understand  you,  Doctor." 

"How  is  it  with  literature?  Do  you  think  that  you 
can  ever  build  up  an  American  literature,  if  the  chief 
merit  of  our  native  authors  exists  only  by  imitation  ? 
Dr.  Drake,  sir,  Joseph  Rodman  Drake  was  an  exam 
ple.  He  was  an  original  native  poet,  sir.  Who  has  fol 
lowed  his  example  ?  Not  one." 

"That  would  be  imitation, Doctor." 

"No,  sir.  It  would  be  emulation.  There  is  a  nice 
distinction  between  the  two  phrases." 

"But  what  do  you  mean  by  plagiarisms, Doctor ?" 

"  That  is  rather  a  harsh  term  to  use.  Suppose  we  call 
them  'accidental  resemblances.'  Now,  your  friend,  Barry 
Gray,  paid  you  a  great  compliment  in  accidentally  resem 
bling  your  style.  My  dear  old  friend,  Washington  Irv 
ing,  once  said  to  me:  *  Who  is  this  Barry  Gray?  He  has 
stolen  from  the  Sparrowgrass  Papers,  the  style  of  the 
author.  Materials  are  everywhere,  and  are  common  prop- 
•  erty.  But  a  new  style  is  the  autJwr's  own.  Tell  me  the 
real  name  of  Barry  Gray,  that  I  may  know  upon  whom 
to  pour  the  full  measure  of  my  contempt,  for  I  hate  these 
literary  pilferers.'  ' 

"  Surely,  Doctor,  you  know  what  stopped  my  pen  at 
that  time,  and  so  spare  me." 

"  Suppose  we  take  up  Halleck  as  an  example,"  said 
the  Doctor,  sententiously. 


62  ACCIDENTAL  RESEMBLANCES. 

"Great  heavens,  Doctor!  Halleck!  I  know  that 
4  Fanny,'  has  been  assumed  by  the  critics  to  be  an  imita 
tion  of  Don  Juan,  but,  really,  it  was  written  before  Don 
Juan  was  published.  Lord  Byron's  story  of  Beppo  sug 
gested  the  metre,  and  Halleck  wrote  '  Fanny'  before  Don 
Juan  had  crossed  the  Atlantic." 

"  What  do  you  think,"  said  the  Doctor,  "  of  his  eulogy 
on  Bums  ? 

"  'And  if  despondency  weigh  down, 

Thy  spirits'  fluttering  pinions  then, 
Despair — thy  name  is  written  on 
The  roll  of  common  men.'" 

"Well,  Doctor?" 

4 '  Shakspeare,  sir !  Henry  IV,  Part  I,  Act  IH,  Scene 
First,—- 

"  'And  all  the  courses  of  my  life  do  show, 
I  am  not  in  the  roll  of  common  men.' " 

"Ah,  Doctor !  Halleck  intended  that  to  be  a  quota 
tion." 

"Now,  sir,"  continued  the  Doctor,  "we  have  Henry 
(again)  IV,  Part  I,  Act  IV,  Scene  First,  as  authority  for 
another  popular  catch  word — 

" '  There  is  not  such  a  word  spoken  of  in  Scotland,  as  this  term  fear.' 
And  Bulwer  in  his  "  Richelieu  "    says— 
"  '  There  is  no  such  word  as  fail.' 


ACCIDENTAL   RESEMBLANCES.  63 

Do  you  not  see  the  palpable  resemblance  of  these  two  ?  " 
4 '  True,  Doctor,  but  what  shall  be  said  of  them  except 

that  they  are " 

"Accidental   resemblances!      Now,   here  is  another 

example,  from  Paul  Revere's  Ride  in  Longfellow's  *  Way 

side  Inn': — 

"  '  Now  soft  on  the  sand,  now  loud  on  the  ledge, 
I  hear  the  tramp  of  his  hoof  as  he  rides.' 

But  Tennyson  had  already  written  in  his  wonderful  dra 
matic  poem  of  Man — 

" '  Low  on  the  sand,  and  loud  on  the  stone, 
The  last  wheel  echoes  away.' 

What  do  you  think  of  that?" 

"  Ah,  Doctor,  you  are  rather  hypercritical." 
"  Do  you  think  so  ?"  said  the  Doctor,  slightly  redden 
ing,  for  he  does  not  like  his  opinions  to  be  impugned. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  this  from  the  Birds  of  Kil- 
lingworth,  in  the  same  volume  ? 

" '  And  rivulets  rejoicing,  rush  and  leap, 
And  wave  their  fluttering  sisjnals  from  the  steep.' " 

"Well,  Doctor,  I  never  heard  that  before,  and  it  is  a 
beautiful  image." 

"  Beautiful !  indeed  it  is,  if  one  had  never  before  read 
Wordsworth's  ode  on  the  Intimations  of  Immortality, 
where  we  have  the  same  idea  presented  in  a  line,  the 


64  ACCIDENTAL  RESEMBLANCES. 

rejoicing,  the  rush  and  leap  of  the  waters,  the  signal  note, 
the  great  concurrence  of  waters,  in  one  blast,  as  it  were — 

'  The  cataracts  blow  their  trumpets  from  the  steep.' 

That,  sir,  is  poetry,  and  the  other  is " 

"  But  surely,  Doctor,  you  must  admit " 

"That  Longfellow's  psalm  of  life  is  original.  Arslonga 
vita  brevis,  is  cleverly  rendered.  As  for  the  rest  of  the 
stanza,  though  I  will  quote  the  whole  of  it 

Art  is  long,  and  time  is  fleeting, 

And  our  hearts  though  stout  and  brave, 
Still  like  muffled  drums  are  beating 

Funeral  marches  to  the  grave.' 

• 

•I  cannot  quite  subscribe  to  the  originality  of  any  part  of 
it.  In  my  copy  of  Cowley's  Poems,  (folio  '  1668,'  page  13, 
of  verses  written  on  several  occasions,)  in  his  Ode  upon 
Dr.  Harvey,  who  had  discovered  the  circulation  of  the 

blood " 

"And  a  great  disccwery  it  was,  Doctor !" 
"A  great  discovery,  sir!  As  great  in  medical  science, 
as  Galileo's  discovery  of  the  rotation  of  the  earth,  sir.  In 
Cowley's  tribute  to  Dr.  Harvey,  we  find  this  expression 
of  the  poet — full  of  his  subject,  the  new  discovery — the 
circulation  of  the  blood. 


The  tuneful  march  to  vital  heat.' 
And  here  we  see  the  idea  of  the  march,  of  the  rnnsiciu 


ACCIDENTAL  RESEMBLANCES.  65 

instruments,  of  the  band,  of  the  drums  beating,  embodied 
in  the  lines  of  our  Cambridge  friend." 

"So  then  Cowley  was  the  originator  of  that  thought?" 
"No,  sir.  I  did  not  say  so.  His  lines  had  'an  acci 
dental  resemblance'  to  the  lines  of  Dr.  Henry  King, 
Bishop  of  Chichester,  who  had  before  written  in  a  poem 
called  the  'Exequy,'  an  ode  dedicated  to  his  deceased 
wife — 

"  '  But  hark !  rny  pulse  like  a  soft  drum 
Beats  my  approach,  tells  that  I  come, 
And  slow,  however,  my  marches  be, 
I  shall  at  last  sit  down  by  thee.' 

There,  sir,  what  do  you  think  of  that  ?  " 

"  Why,  let  us  all  thank  God,  Doctor,  that  such  things 
have  been  modernized.  Who  the  deuce  could  buy  Cowley 
or  Bishop  King  at  this  time?" 

"Ah,  my  learned  friend,"  said  the  Doctor,  "I  do  not 
like  your  remarks.  I  have  paid  a  great  deal  of  attention 
to  these  works  of  original  men,  and  I  would  like  to  con 
serve  them,  apart  and  entire  from  the  vulgar  world." 

"What  good  would  that  do,  Doctor?" 

Dr.  Bushwhacker  paused.  He  was  evidently  moving 
upon  a  different  plane  from  the  ordinary  motion  of  mor 
tals.  His  love  of  uncut  editions  floated  before  his  eyes. 
Finally  he  broke  forth: 

"  *  The  blessings  of  Providence,  like  the  dews  of  heaven, 
should  fall  alike  upon  the  rich  and  the  poor.' — Andrew 

4 


66  ACCIDENTAL  RESEMBLANCES. 

Jackson.    There,  sir,  you  have  an  original  quotation  from 
one  of  the  greatest  Presidents  we  ever  had." 

"No,  Doctor,  for  in  Burton's  Anatomy  of  Melancholy, 
which  is  one  of  the  most  comical  books  ever  written,  you 
will  find  on  page  391,  edition  of  1836,  printed  for  B. 
Blake,  the  following  sentence: — 

'As  the  rain  falls  on  both  sorts,  so  are  riches  given  to  good  and  bad." 

"  That  is  so  near  Jackson's  motto,  that  the  accidental 
resemblance  is  palpable.  Of  course  General  Jackson  had 
read  Burton's  Anatomy  of  Melancholy,  my  learned  friend. 
What  hadn't  General  Jackson  read  ?" 

"Now,  Doctor,  in  regard  to  these  matters,  what  do 
you  think  of  Tennyson's 

" '  Flowers  of  all  hues,  and  lovelier  through  their  names," 
Introduced  in  the  prologue  to  the  Princess  ?" 

The  Doctor  paused. — "  Tennyson  is  certainly  an  orig 
inal  poet." 

"But  Milton  in  Book  IV,  verse  256,  in  Paradise  Lost, 
hoLS^ flowers  of  all  hues.'  Do  you  think  Tennyson  stole 
from  Milton  ?" 

"No,  that  was  an  accidental  resemblance !" 

"  What  do  you  think  of  Lord  Byron  ? — 

" '  For  where  the  spahi's  hoof  has  trod, 
There  verdure  flies  the  bloody  sod,' 

Compared  with  Dr.  Fuller,  in  his  Holy  War,  Chapter 
XXX. 

'Grass  springeth  not  where  the  grand  signior  setteth  his  foot.' " 


ACCIDENTAL  RESEMBLANCES.  C7 

*'  Ah,"  said  the  Doctor,  '-'you  are  too  inquisitive,  and 
too  hypercritical.  '  Grass  springeth  not  where  the  grand 
Turk  setteth  his  foot,'  and  'where  tie  spahi's  hoof  has 
trod,  there  verdure  flies  the  bloody  sod,'  is  the  same 
thought  expressed  in  different  ways.  One  is  a  common 
place  method  of  expressing  a  superstition  common  in 
the  days  of  Fuller ;  the  other  a  highly  imaginative  poeti 
cal  paraphrase  of  Lord  Byron." 

"But  the  thought  was  an  accidental  resemblance  f 
eh,  Doctor?" 

Dr.  Bushwhacker,  whose  nut-pick  had  been  busily  em 
ployed  during  this  colloquy,  and  who  had  tasted  succes 
sively  the  Sherry,  the  Old  Port,  and  the  Wanderer  of 
1822,  now  laid  down  the  little  steel  implement,  which,  in 
his  hand,  looked  very  much  like  a  dentist's  tooth  filler, 
brushed  the  lint  of  the  napkin  off  his  lap,  and  rose. 
"You  ask  me  too  much,"  he  said.  "You  overburthen 
my  mind  with  ridiculous  questions,  and  expect  me  to  find 
answers  for  all  the  quips  and  cranks  of  an  erratic  brain. 
Do  you  not  know,  sir,  it  is  much  easier  to  ask  questions 
than  to  find  answers  for  them?  Good  bye,  sir;  I  wish 
you  a  very  good  day.  My  compliments  to  your  good 
lady,  who,  I  suppose,  is  asleep  by  this  time.  And  a  kiss 
for  all  the  little  ones,  who,  no  doubt,  are  in  the  same 
happy  condition.  I  am  going,  sir,  to  a  country  where 
there  are  no  poets,  nor  philosophers,  nor  plagiarists,  nor 
politicians.  To-morrow  I  shall  take  a  steamer  for  San 
Francisco,  and  from  that  place  I  shall  go  to  our  new 


ACCIDENTAL  RESEMBLANCES. 


Russian  American  Possessions,  among  the  Polar  Bears, 
and  the  beauties  of  Arctic  vegetation.  Farewell !  and 
perhaps  you  will  never  hear  more  of  Dr.  Bushwhacker. 


NOTE.  —  After  the  Doctor  had  departed  I  found  on  my 
desk  the  following  paper,  which  I  recognized  as  being  in 
his  handwriting.  As  a  literary  curiosity,  I  have  thought 
it  worth  preserving. 


XI. 


BY  DR.  BUSHWHACKER. 

(Jin  N  the  America-Russian  archipelago  there  is  an 
island  called  by  the  above  name,  on  which  is  the 
capital  city  of  New  Archangel.  It  is  situated  off  a  belt  of 
land,  fringed  with  Russian  islands,  about  thirty  miles  wide, 
and  three  hundred  and  forty-five  miles  long;  which  shuts  off 
one-half  of  British  America  irom  the  Pacific  ;  and  north 
of  that,  the  great  peninsula,  like  a  shoulder  of  mutton, 
tough,  sinewy,  and  fat  with  Arctic  animal  life,  rolls  up 
into  the  mighty  fore-arm  of  Mount  St.  Elias,  and  rolls  down 
in  avalanches,  eternal  snow-storms,  glaciers,  fogs,  and  icy 
rivers  to  the  Pacific  on  the  west  side  and  to  the  Arctic  Sea 
on  the  north  side.  To  the  consumptive  patient  the  land  of 
fers  few  attractions,  but  to  those  philosophers,  whose  lungs 
are  strong  enough  to  endure  the  fatigues  of  a  lecture-room, 
she  has  an  eloquence  and  beauty,  diversified  with  two 
volcanoes,  whose  throats  are  in  a  perpetual  blaze  of  excite 
ment.  What  splendor  there  is  in  yonder  Aurora  Borealis, 
that  for  myriads  of  years  has  played  upon  these  lakes, 
streams,  and  mountain  peaks  !  How  delicious  nature  is 
in  her  normal  condition  !  I  think  I  hear  one  of  the  Strong 
M  mded,  say  to  her  lovely  companion  in  philosophy  I  4Ah, 


70  SITKA  :    OUR  NEW  ACQUISITION. 

Maria!  let  us  lay  aside  our  fans  and  our  chignons,  and  put 
on  snow  shoes,  and  explore !  Will  you  go  with  me  from 
the  heated  atmosphere  of  social  life  into  the  calm  sequest 
ered  retreats  of  Russian  America  ?  Shall  we  build  huts 
of  blocks  of  ice,  like  the  hardy  Esquimaux,  and  wrap  our 
selves  in  the  drapery  of  a  robe  of  sable  skins  or  sea  otters, 
worth  $20,000  at  least,  and  despise  the  pomp  of  this  world? 
You  know,  my  dear,  sables  are  very  cheap  there.  Cath 
erine  of  Russia  had  to  get  her  sables  by  keeping  up  a  very 
expensive  military  establishment  at  Sitka.  She  was  a 
very  illustrious,  strong-minded  woman,  to  be  sure;  and 
her  morals  were  a  little  loose,  and  she  poisoned  her 
husband ;  but  what  are  those  trifling  enjoyments  compared 
with  carrying  out  a  great  idea  ?  It  is  not  so  cold  as  the 
eastern  side  of  the  continent.  The  isothermal  lines  cause 
a  great  moderation  in  the  atmosphere  there.  Let  us 
establish  a  school  there.  There  are  78,000  souls — if  they 
have  souls — of  Calmucs,  Creoles,  native  Indians,  Kuriles, 
Aleutians  and  Kodiaks,  Kamschatkians  and  Esquimaux ; 
and  how  pleasant  it  will  be  to  teach  them  the  rudiments ! 
By  and  by  they  can  vote.  Fly  with  me,  dear  Maria ! 
Do  you  not  long  for  the  snow  shoes  that  will  carry  you 
over  those  vast  steppes  to  a  superior  intelligence?  An  in 
telligence  with  nature,  a  communion  with  her  visible 
forms,  a  relief  from  the  world,  and  the  sweet  sympathy 
that  we  shall  feel  with  the  Aurora  Borealis !' 
"  The  reason  why  the  Czar  wishes  to  dispose  of  this  fer 
tile  territory  is  because  he  cannot  conquer  the  North 


SITKA:    OUR  NEW  ACQUISITION.  71 

Pole,  that  being  the  only  Pole  that  has  escaped  his  auto 
cratic  fist.  It  must  be  said,  however,  that  it  affords  us 
many  fine  harbors  for  our  whalers  after  animal  petroleum, 
for  heretofore  we  have  had  but  one  decent  harbor  on  the 
Pacific  coast,  and  that  is  San  Francisco.  Now  we  shall 
have  plenty  of  them,  if  we  are  lucky  enough  to  find  themj 
in  the  fogs  which  are  perpetual  there. 

"The   principal   inhabitants   of  this  vast  territory  are 
mountains.     There  is  not  a  tree  that  will  risk  its  vege- 

O 

table  life  by  attempting  to  grow  there  ;  the  low  lands  are 
covered  with  moss  instead  of  grass,  and  the  best  kind  of 
Russian  shred  isinglass  springs  spontaneously  from  the 
crevices  of  the  rocks.  Of  the  amphibious  animals,  the 
green  seal  or  moet  is  most  valued  there,  being  highly 
prized  by  the  Japanese  ;  the  Muscovy  duck  flies  about  in 
a  very  wild  state  in  those  high  latitudes,  while  the  double- 
headed  eagle  preys  alike  upon  the  russ  and  the  walrus. 
Most  of  the  artificial  teeth  in  the  United  States  are  made 
from  the  tusks  of  this  latter  animal,  so  that  in  future  we 
shall  get  our  teeth  free  of  duty.  The  British  having  hereto 
fore  had  an  exclusive  treaty  with  the  Russian  government 
to  supply  this  place  with  food  and  ice-picks,  no  doubt  this 
lucrative  branch  of  commerce  will  fall  into  our  hands. 
There  is  no  doubt  a  vast  quantity  of  gold  hidden  under 
the  soil,  as  it  has  never  made  its  appearance  above  the 
surface.  It  is  proposed  to  get  up  a  Russian  Crushing 
Company  to  extract  this  valuable  ore  from  the  veins  of 
Mt.  St.  Elias.  Spruce-trees  not  bigger  than  a  wisp  broom 


72  S1TKA  :    GUIS  NEW  ACQUISITION. 

grow  in  some  patches.  These  are  valuable,  as  a  beer 
is  brewed  from  them,  very  useful  as  a  remedy  for  the 
scurvy.  The  castle  at  New  Archangel  is  very  heavily  gar 
risoned  with  50  Calmucs  and  Cossacks,  mounts  24  brass- 
mounted  breech-loaders,  five  seven -pounders,  twelve 
horse-pistols,  two  mountain  howitzers,  one  Governor,  one 
Russian  flag,  two  ensigns,  and  a  fast  team  of  Esquimaux 
dogs  for  flying  artillery  practice.  The  diplomatic  cor 
respondence  with  old  Gowrowski,  who  is  the  governor  of 
the  fort,  has  not  been  published  as  yet,  as  he  asserts  the 
United  States  government  cannot  turn  him  out  without  the 
consent  of  the  Senate.  The  vivid  description  of  this  en 
chanting  country  by  Campbell  will  no  doubt  recur  to  the 
reader.  Speaking  of  the  hardy  sailor  on  that  coast,  he 
says  :  — 

"'  Cold  on  his  midnight  watch  the  breezes  blow, 
From  wastes  that  slumber  in  eternal  snow, 
And  waft,  across  the  wave's  tumultuous  roar, 
The  wolf's  long  howl  from  Oonalaska's  shore.' " 


xn. 

an&  Jf  ilterts. 

ST  sometimes  happens  at  the  end  of  a  dinner,  when 
jokes  and  walnuts  are  cracked  together,  that  the 
paternity  of  some  trite  quotation  is  put  in  question,  and 
at  once  the  wit  of  the  whole  company  is  set  wool-gather 
ing. 

The  man  who  writes  a  single  line, 

And  hears  it  often  quoted, 
Will  in  his  life  time  surely  shine, 

And  be  hereafter  noted. 

If  every  printing  office  had  a  case  filled  with  popular 
phrases  arranged  in  the  manner  of  types,  it  would  save 
much  manual  labor,  and  the  compositor  would  be  sur 
prised  to  find  how  often  he  had  occasion  to  use  them.  For 
so  inextricably  are  these  "short  sentences  drawn  from 
long  experience"  entangled  in  the  meshes  of  language, 
that  to  eliminate  them  would  be  like  drawing  out  of  a 
carpet  the  threads  that  form  the  pattern.  A  few  of  these 
phrases,  usually  found  floating  in  the  currents  of  ordinary 
conversation,  will  be  sufficient  to  consider  in  a  paper  like 
this:  if  we  were  to  include  those  embraced  in  literature 
rjid  oratory,  it  would  require  foolscap  enough  to  cover 
he  sands  of  Egypt,  and  an  inkstand  as  large  as  one  of 


74  PHRASES  AND  FILBERTS. 

the  pyramids.  Not  being  disposed  to  make  such  an  in 
vestment  in  stationery  at  present,  we  shall  only  play  the 
literary  chiffonier  and  hook  a  few  scraps  from  the  heaps 
of  talk  we  meet  with  every  day. 

Mr.   John  Timmins,  the  broker,  says  of  that   stock, 
"there  is  a  wheel  within  a  wheel"  without  giving  Paradise 
Lost,  Young's  Night  Thoughts,  and  the  Prophet  Ezekiel 
credit  for  a  phrase  which  may  have   saved  him  some 
thousands;    and  when  he  tells  his    boon    companions 
at  the  club,  that  as  for  his  wife,  who  is  rather  inclined 
to  be  extravagant,  "  he  would  deny  her  nothing  "\\Q  does 
not  say  how  much  he  owes  to  Samson  Agonistes  for  the 
words  he  makes  use  of.     When  he  reaches  his  house, 
Mrs.  Tirnmins  takes  him  to  task  "for  coming  home  at 
such  an  hour  of  the  night,  in  such  a  state ;"  to  which  he 
replies,  in  a  gay  and  festive  manner:    "My  dear,  '•To 
err  is  human — to  forgive,  divine^  "  from  Pope's  essay 
on  criticism ;  to  which  Mrs.  T.  answers  in  a  snappish 
way,  "Timmins,  '  there  is  a  medium  in  all  things  ' "  (from 
Horace).     Mr.  T.,  disliking  the  tone  in  which  this  quota 
tion  is  delivered,   "snatches  a  fearful  .joy"  (from   the 
"  Ode  on  a  Distant  Prospect  of  Eton  College"),  by  saying- 
lie  does  not  intend,  in  his  house,  to  have  "the  grey  mare 
prove  the  better  horse  "  (from  Priors  epilogue).    This  only 
"adds  fuel  to  the  flame  "  (from  Milton's  Samson),  and 
Mrs.  T.  observes  that  if  "we  could  only  see  ourselves  as 
others  see  us  "  (from  Burns),  it  would  be  better  for  some 
people  ;  that  ever  since  lie  had  joined  that  club  "a  change 
had  ca?ne  o'er  the  spirit  of  her  dream  "  (from  Byron) ; 


PHRASES  AND  FILBERTS.  75 

that  when  she   trusted  her  happiness  to  him  she  had 
"  leaned   upon  a  broken  reed "   (from  Young's    Night 
Thoughts  III,  and  Isaiah  36:  6),  and  winds  up  a  long 
lecture  with  the  reflection  that  "evil  communications  cor- 
rupt  good  manners  "  (from  1st  Corinthians  15:  33).     This 
last  expression  exasperates  Mr.  Timmins,  and  he  asks  Mrs. 
T.,  as  he  takes  off'  his  suspenders,  "  to  whom  she  alludes  ?" 
Is  it  to  Perkins  who  had  stood  by  him  "in  evil  report  and 
good  report  f  (2d  Corinthians  6:  8).     Is  it  to  Rapley? 
' '  a  man  take  him  for  all  in  all  "  (Hamlet,  Act  I,  Scene 
Second),  is   "  after  his  own  heart  "  (Acts  13:  22),  and  as 
for  Badger,  who  had  extended  to  him  in  the  tight  times  of 
'36  and '37  "the  right  hand  of  fellowship  (Galatians  2: 
9),  he  was  as  honest  a  man  as  ever  breathed  ;  and  here 
Mr.  Timmins,  with  one  boot  in  his  hand  and  the  other  in 
the  boot-jack,  eloquently  adds,  "an  honest  man  is  the 
noblest  work  of  God  ! "  (from  Pope's  Essay).     He  was 
proud  of  the  friendship  of  such  men,  if  she  meant  them. 
Airs.  T.,  not  at  all  carried  away  by  such  a  flood  of  author 
ities,    rather   scornfully  says,    ' '  O   Timmins,    *  what  is 
friendship  but  a  name  T  "  (from  Goldsmith's  Hermit) ;  at 
which  Mr.  T.,  who  by  this  time  is  undressed,  and  "  as 
mad  as  a  March  hare  "  (from  the  old  English  superstition), 
puts  out  the  candle  "in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye"  (1st 
Corinthians  15:  52),  lies  down  as  far  as  possible  from  the 
"weaker  vessel"  (1st  Epistle   of  Peter  2:  17),   courts 
"  tired  Natures  sweet  restorer,  balmy  sleep  /"  (Young's 
Night  Thoughts),  and  wakes  next  morning  "a  sadder 
and  a  wiser  man  "  (in  Coleridge's  Ancient  Mariner). 


76  PHRASES  AND  FILBEKTS. 

If  we  turn  from  the  frescoed  bed-chamber  of  Mrs. 
Timmins  to  the  white-washed  kitchen  of  Jim  Skiver,  the 
shoemaker,  we  find  language  not  less  elevated.  Jim 
throws  a  leg  of  mutton  upon  the  table  and  says:  "  There, 
Mary,  I  had  *  to  take  Hobsorts  choice,' "  although  Jim  had 
neither  read  the  «509th  Spectator,  nor  knew  that  Hobson's 
epitaph  had  been  written  by  Milton.  Jim,  not  "having 
the  fear  of"  Beaumont  and  Fletcher  "before  his  eyes," 
(Romans  3:  18),  says,  if  he  can  "  catch  that  man  wot  gave 
Bill  Baxter  a  black  eye  the  day  afore  his  weddin'  he'll 
'  lamm '  him",  (King  and  No  King,  Act  V,  Scene  Third). 
To  which  Mary  replies:  "I  thought  somethin'  would 
happin:  *  the  course  of  true  love  never  did  run  smooth?  " 
(Midsummers  Night's  Dream,  Act  I,  Scene  1),  and  Jim 
responds,  "  That's  so  ;  and  they've  put  off  the  weddin' 
so  often  that  it  seems  kind  o'  'hopirf  agin1  hope?  "  (Ro 
mans  4:  18).  Jim  thinks  after  they've  had  a  "snack" 
(Pope  and  Dryden),  they  had  better  go  see  the  Siamese 
Twins ;  "  twins  tied  by  nature  ;  if  they  part,  they  die" 
(Young's  Night  Thoughts);  puts  on  "  a  hat  not  much  the 
worse  for  wear"  (John  Gilpin),  "dashes  through  thick 
and  thin"  (same  authority  and  Hudibras),  and  after  he  has 
seen  the  Siamese,  requests  to  see  the  "Lilliputian King" 
(from  Gulliver's  travels). 

How  much  language  would  be  left  us  if  these  estrays 
were  returned  to'their  lawful  owners,  is  a  question.  How 
could  we  console  the  dying  if  we  had  to  give  up  to  Gay's 

twenty-seventh   Fable  the  phrase,  "while  there  is  life 

..  - 


PHKASES  AND  FILBERTS.  77 

therms  hope  f  "  and  what  could  we  say  to  the  good  in  mis 
fortune  it*  we  had  to  restore  to  Prior's  Ode,  "  Virtue  is  her 
own  reward  ?  "  The  shopkeeper  who  ends  his  long  list 
of  fancy  articles  with  "and  other  articles  too  tedious  to 
mention"  makes  use  of  a  sentence  as  old  as  the  Latin 
language,  and  we  would  take  the  point  from  Byron's  hit 
at  Coleridge,  if  we  were  to  replace  in  "  Garrick's  Epilogue 
on  Leaving  the  Stage,"  "  a  fellow-feeling  makes  us  wond 
rous  kind"  So,  too, must  Goldsmith's  Hermit  lose  " man 
wants  but  little  here  below"  if  Young's  Night  Thought, 
IV,  had  its  own  property:  and  "all  the  jargon  of  the 
schools"  from  Burns'  1st  epistle  to  J.  Lapraik  must  be 
rendered  up  to  Prior's  "Ode  on  Exodus,"  which  has  a 
prior  claim  to  it.  Mr.  Achitophel  Scapegrace  thinks  the 
biggest  stockholders  in  the  Roaring  River  Canal  Co.  will 
have  the  best  chance,  as  "  all  the  big  fish  will  eat  up  the 
little  ones  "  (Pericles,  Prince  of  Tyre,  Act  II,  Scene  First), 
arid  Mr.  Bombastes  Linderwold  talks  of  a  "platform"  in 
precisely  the  same  sense  as  Cromwell  did  two  hundred 
years  ago  (Queries  in  Letter  97,  Carlyle).  It  is  in  Crom 
well's  seventh  letter  that  we  find  for  the  first  time  that 
apt  conjunction,  "a  gentl&tnan  and  a  Christian,"  now 
somewhat  threadbare  from  misuse,  and  if  we  want 
"  motfier-wit,"  we  must  look  for  it  in  Spenser's  "  Faerie 
Queen,"  Book  IV,  Canto  X,  verse  21.  Everybody  has 
seen  the  man  in  Greek  costume  who  sells  soap  by  the  ball, 
but  nobody  but  Mr.  Leviticus Gaylord  suggested,  "that 
if  another  Greek  shonJd  meet  that  Greek  then  would  be 


78  PHRASES    AND    FILBEKTS. 

a  tug  of  war  ''  and  he  has  authority  for  saying  so  in  the 
Rival  Queens,  Act  IV,  Scene  First.  We  have  to  go 
back  to  Thomas  a  Kempis  for  "  man  proposes  but  God 
disposes  ;"  but  "what  if  thou  withdraw  and  no  friend 
takes  note  of  thy  departure  ?"  was  written  by  a  young  man 
only  eighteen  years  of  age  nearly  fifty  years  ago.*  If 
we  want  to  look  up  * '  the  solemn  brood  of  care, "  we  can 
find  that,  'f  and  each  one,  as  before,  will  chase  his  favorite 
phantom,"  in  Thanatopsis.  There,  too,  we  will  see  the  hills 
'•'•rock-ribbed  and  ancient  as  the  sun"  but  "old  as  the 
hills"  is  older  than  the  "oldest  inhabitant,"  and  like  him, 
has  lost  its  parent.  If  we  need  "  to  point  a  moral  and 
adorn  a  tale,"  we  must  get  Dr.  Johnson's  "Vanity  of 
Human  Wishes,"  and  "he  that  runs  may  read,"  in 
Cowper's  "  Tirocinium,"  and  "  he  may  run  that  readeth 
it"  in  Habakuk  2:2.  If  any  person  wish  to  "  consume 
the  midnight  oil"  let  him  read  Gay's  Shepherd  and  Phi 
losopher,  and  in  Congreve's  "Mourning  Bride"  he  will 
find  "music  hath  charms  to  soothe  a  savage  breast."  "To 
be  in  the  wrong  box"  will  occur  to  him  who  has  dipped 
into  the  sixth  book  of  "Fox's  Martyrs,"  and  Napoleon 
found  ' '  that  from,  the  sublime  to  the  ridiculous  there  is 
but  one  step,"  in  Tom  Paine's  works  translated  and  pub 
lished  in  France,  in  1791.  We  take  "  buds  of  promise," 
from  Young's  "Last  Day,"  "and  men  talk  only  to  con 
ceal  their  mind,"  from  his  "Love  of  Fame,"  although 
we  attribute  the  thought  to  Talleyrand.  "Good  breeding 

*  Bryant. 


PHRASBS    AXD    FILBERTS-  79 

is  the,  blossom  of  good  sense,"  is  not  quite  so  familiar,  but 
it  is  also  in  the  "Love  of  Fame,"  from  whence  we  get 
the  original  of  what  Matilda  Jane  Peabody  believes  when 
she  ties  up  her  hair  before  the  looking  glass  and  says  that 
' '  Louisa  Perkins  and  Betsey  Baker  can't  hold  a  candle  to 
her"  "To  hold  their  farthing  candle  to  the  sun"  is  in 
her  mind,  or  its  equivalent.  "Who  shall  decide  when 
doctors  disagree  f"  is  a  question  we  may  well  ask  between 
the  AJlopathists  and  the  Homceopathists,  and  Pope  puts  it 
in  his  "  Fourth  Moral  Essay."  In  "  Lochiel's  Warning  " 
we  find  "  coming  events  cast  their  shadows  before"  So 
Tim  Taffeta  thinks  as  he  sees  the  shade  deepen  upon  the 
brows  of  his  creditor.  So  Dr.  Senna  thinks  as  he  sees  the 
premonitory  symptoms  of  coming  apoplexy  in  the  fail- 
round  proportions  of  Alderman  Broadbutton,  and  so 
thinks  Peter  Pipkin  as  the  delicate  adumbration  is  visible 
in  Mrs.  Pipkin's  "  nature's  last  best  gift  "  (Paradise  Lost, 
Book  5,  line  19),  who  finds  herself  "  as  women  wish  to 
be  who  love  their  lords"  (Douglass,  Act  L,  Scene  First), 
"  not  wi-sely,  but  too  well "  (Othello,  Act  Y,  Scene  Last). 
It  is  impossible  to  see  the  Ravels  on  the  tight-rope  with 
out  thinking  of  "  the  light  fantastic  toe,"  and  L' Allegro; 
and  "  thoughts  that  breath  and  words  that  burn"  live  in 
the  magic  atmosphere  that  surrounds  the  orator,  as  well 
as  in  "Gray's  Progress  of  Poesy."  To  make  a  complete 
collection  of  these  phrases  would  be  the  labor  of  a  life  5 
so  numerous  are  they,  that  if  the  door  is  once  openec}, 
they  pour  in  tc  thick  as  the  leaves  in  Vala/rnbifosa,  "  (Para- 


80  PHRASES    AND    FILBERTS. 

dise  Lost,  Book  I,  line  303) ;  and  although  the  ' '  labor  of 
love"  (Hebrews  6:  10),  might  entertain  the  scholar,  yet  if 
he  were  to  cast  these  pearls  before  an  nndiscriminating 
multitude,  after  he  "had  borne  the  burden  and  heat  of 
the  day  "  (Mathew  20:  12),  his  only  recompense  would  be 
that  he  had  made  every  one  as  wise  as  himself,  which  the 
true  scholar  cannot  abide.  "Brevity  is  the  soul  ofivit  " 
(Hamlet,  Act  II,  Scene  >Second),  and  we  must  make  our 
discourse  "fine  by  degrees  and  beautifully  less  "  (Prior's 
Henry  and  Emma).  These  sentences — ' ' jewels,  jive  words 
long  that  on  the  stretched  forefinger  of  old  Time  sparkle 
forever  "  (Tennyson's  Princess),  are  not  to  be  scattered 
with  too  liberal  a  hand,  and,  therefore,  we  shall  conclude 
with  a  quotation  peculiarly  appropriate:  "  FORSAKE  NOT 
AN  OLD  FRIEND:  WHEN  WINE  is  OLD,  THOU  SHALT  DRINK 

WITH  PLEASURE."      EccJ.  9:   1.0, 


XIII. 

<®ueen  Victoria  Speafc  3Eng!igf)  ? 


>Y  friend  John  Common  of  Roscommon  Bay, 
middle  inlet,  third  house  on  the  left  hand  side 
going  up,  where  there  is  good  anchorage  for  a  yacht  of 
several  tons  burden,  propounded  the  above  question  one 
day,  after  a  yawning  stretch  over  the  briny  bay  in  a  brisk 
breeze,  followed  by  the  usual  dead  calm,  when  insight 
of  home. 

" Does  Queen  Victoria  speak  English?" 

"Surely,  John  Common  of  Roscommon,  she  speaks 
her  own  Queen's  English,  and  that  is  the  purest  language 
the  Court  of  St.  James  has  heard  since  the  days  of  Edward 
the  Confessor." 

John  Common  of  Roscommon  lazily  puffed  his  cigar 
under  the  canvas  canopy  of  the  summer  sail,  knocked  off 
the  ashes  with  the  tip  of  his  little  finger,  drew  a  fresh 
whiff  of  inspiration  from  his  little  brown  deity,  and  sakl* 
n  a  soft  voice  of  rebuke :  — 

"I  know  very  well  that  her  Majesty  is  a  pure,  high- 
minded,  pious,  good  woman ;  but  my  inquiry  related  not 


82  DOES   QUEEN   VICTORIA   SPEAK  ENGLISH? 

to  her  morals,  but  to  her  language ;  to  her  vocabulary, 
if  you  will,  which  is  the  vocabulary  of  the  realm ;  the 
court  language,  the  language  of  polite  society ;  —  in  fact, 
that  arbitrary  style  of  speaking  which  is  commonly  known 
as  the  Queen's  English,  the  mother  tongue  of  British 
scholars,  statesmen,  and  of  the  highly  educated  classes  of 
that  country ;  and  that  is  what  I  meant.  I  have  a  theory 
of  my  own  upon  that  subject,"  he  continued,  "  and  I  merely 
asked  the  question  of  you  in  order  that  I  might  have  an 
opportunity  to  answer  it  myself." 

"A  theory  !  a  theory  !  "  cried  out  several  voices  from 
the  cabin  of  the  yacht,  where  the  clinking  of  ice  had  been 
heard  for  several  minutes,  and  out  came  the  party.  John 
Littlejohn,  and  William  Williamson,  and  Peter  Peterson, 
and  Sandy  Sanderson,  and  several  others.  They  arranged 
themselves  on  the  seats  under  the  shadow  of  the  sail, 
cigars  were  handed  around;  it  was  a  dead  calm  on  the 
bay,  and  so  John  Common  of  Roscommon  began  :  — 

"  I  have  never  yet  heard  an  Englishman  speak,  who 
pretended  to  use  the  Queen's  vernacular,  without  tracing 
in  his  language  a  vein  of  cockney  running  in  it,  like  a  gold 
thread  through  a  velvet  cloth.  And  this  quite  as  plain 
and  distinct  among  the  highly  educated,  as  among  the 
rest  of  her  Majesty's  subjects. 

"  I  maintain  that  custom  does  not  sanction  the  misuse 
of  the  eighth  letter,  or  as  Rare  Ben  Johnson  quotes  it, 
'  the  queen  mother  of  consonants,'  although  it  may  excuse 
it.  Certainly,  when  we  consider  the  matter  fairly,  wo 


DOES  QUEEN  VICTOEIA   SPEAK  ENGLISH  ?          83 

must  conclude  that  there  is  as  much  impropriety  in  sub 
stituting  for  the  beautiful  Greek  female  name  '  Helen'  the 
modern  English  name  of  'Ellen,'  as  there  would  be  in 
calling  '  Emma'  '  llemma,'  which  the  Court  of  St.  James 
will  very  speedily  do,  unless  a  stop  is  put  to  further  in 
novation. 

"  In  citing  the  name  of  '  Helen,'  for  so  unquestionably 
the  Hellenes  pronounce  it,  I  had  a  further  object  in  view, 
and  that  was  to  follow  up  the  stream  of  cockneyism  to  its 
classical  fountain.  The  Greeks  were  probably  the  original 
cockneys — at  least  we  can  trace  the  spiritus  asper  and  the 
spiritus  lenis  to  them.  There  might  have  been  still  earl 
ier  cockneys,  and  it  is  not  unreasonable  to  suppose  that 
in  the  confusion  of  tongues  at  the  destruction  of  the  Tower 
of  Babel,  that  the  family  of  Ifs  might  have  first  adopted 
the  unsettled  and  wandering  mode  of  life  which  they  have 
led  elsewhere,  and  are  now  leading  in  the  English  lan 
guage  ;  but  so  far  as  that  is  concerned,  it  is  mere  conjec 
ture,  and,  therefore,  very  likely  to  mislead  us  in  our 
course  of  inquiry  after  truth." 

Then  he  continued:  — 

,  "It  is  quite  easy  to  follow  the  current  down  after  strik 
ing  the  parent  spring.  In  the  time  of  Romulus  and  Remus 
no  doubt  the  original  Latin  was  a  pure  sonorous  language, 
a  little  barbarous,  to  be  sure,  but  stuck  as  full  of  II's  as 
the  cloves  in  old-fashioned  boiled  ham  (and  a  rich  dish  that 
would  be  now,  with  the  present  tax  on  spices);  but  as  the 
Romans  waxed  opulent,  gave  up  wars  and  patriotism,  and 


84  DOES  QUEEN  VICTOEIA  SPEAK  ENGLISH  ? 

began  to  cultivate  arts  and  lassitude,  the  introduction  of 
schools  prepared  the  way  for  the  Greek  accent ;  it  becamo 
the  rage  to  imitate  the  style  of  Athens,  as  well  in  its  ora 
tory  as  in  its  sculpture  and  in  its  architecture  ;  and  when 
Cicero  spoke  in  the  affected  and  voluptuous  diction  of 
Alcibiades,  and  Csesar  fell  at  the  foot  of  a  marble  image, 
then  the  decadence  of  Empire  began. 

"The  languages,  of  which  the  Latin  was  the  primitive 
stem,  such  as  the  Italian,  the  Spanish,  the  Portuguese, 
and  the  French,  easily  adopted  the  accent  of  Rome  when 
Rome  was  in  its  decay.  These  modem  languages  cast 
off  their  S's,  and  to  this  day  the  French  Academy,  the 
Spanish  Academy,  the  Universities  of  Padua  and  of 
Parma  have  never  been  able  to  recall  them.  In  the  lan 
guage  of  a  Spanish  lexicographer,  'H  is  not  properly 
considered  as  a  letter,  but  as  a  mere  aspiration.'  The 
Spanish  Academy  has  also  banished  the  hard  sound  of  the 
h  in  chimico,  chimera,  chamelote,  etc.,  by  writing  instead, 
quimico,  quimera,  camelote.  So  that  the  eighth  letter  is 
torn  up  root  and  branch,  in  the  Kingdom  of  Isabella  the 
Catholic,  and  the  consequence  is  that  they  have  a  revolu 
tion  in  Spain  every  six  years.  In  a  short  time  Cuba  will 
be  on  a  detached  service.  It  is  significant  that  the  natives 
of  the  Siempre  Fiel  pronounce  '  Habana'  with  enough 
ejaculation  of  breath  upon  the  first  letter  to  blow  a  Span 
ish  fleet  from  its  anchorage. 

"But  to  return  to  the  Queen's  English.  Before  tho 
Norman  Conquest  England  had  a  language  of  its  own-- 


DOES  QUEEN  VICTORIA  SPEAK  ENGLISH?          85 

not  Saxon  altogether,  but  English!  that  great,  pithy, 
thoughtful,  bold,  full-fraughted,  mother  tongue,  which 
even  now  constitutes  the  substance  and  strength  of  the 
highest  powers  of  intellectual  expression  ;  not  to  be  ex 
celled  in  any  language.  I  might  almost  say  not  to  be 
matched  by  any  foreign  idiom. 

"I  am  speaking  now  of  the  pure  English,  that  is 
spoken  only  by  educated  people  in  New  York  city  and 
its  immediate  vicinity. 

"  No  person  who  wishes  to  attain  a  lofty  style  can  safely 
depart  from  the  good  old  English  idiom.  It  is  to  glowing 
eloquence  and  sparkling  rhetoric,  what  a  blacksmith's 
bellows  is  to  a  forge. 

"  This  language,  notwithstanding  it  was  so  splendidly 
celebrated  by  old  Thomas  Churchyard  (Tempus  Henry 
VII),  had  unfortunately  been  corrupted  long  before  his 
time  by  the  Normans.  William  Conqueror  introduced  a 
court  cockney  dialect,  which  had  descended  from  the 
Greek  cockneys  to  the  Roman  cockneys,  from'  the  Roman 
cockneys  to  every  branch  of  the  Latin  family,  and  from 
the  derivatory  Norman  French  it  spread  through  to  White- 
chapel  and  Threadneedle  streets,  through  Windsor  and 
Buckingham  Palaces,  and  from  thence  to  the  hearts  and 
homes  of  an  imitative  people.  Thus  it  was  that  the  fam 
ily  of  H's  were  banished  from  their  own  indigenous  soiL 

"  That  is  the  history  of  it,  or  chronicle,  or  what  you 
will.  All  that  I  wish  to  say  is,  that  we  can  trace  the 
Greek  taint  down  to  the  present  time. 


86  DOES  QUEEN  VICTORIA  SPEAK  ENGLISH? 

"  Now,  then,  for  examples.  There  is  old  Geoffrey 
Chaucer  (commonly  known  among  the  wooden  spoons 
of  Boston  as  Daniel  Chaucer),  he  is  full  of  defiled  Eng 
lish.  In  the  Nonnes'  Priest's  Tale,  we  have  'habundanff 
for  abundant  ;*  and  for  hexameter  he  uses  this  outrage 
ous  substitute:  — 

"  'And  they  ben  versified  commonly 
Of  six  feet,  which  men  clepen  'ezametron.'  f 

For  Dante's  '  Ugolino'  he  substitutes  '  Hug  elm?  %  He 
even  clips  the  French  itself  by  striking  an  h  off  a  French 
clock,  and  naming  Horloge,  '  orloge^ §  and  so  through  all 
his  works.  Can  subserviency  to  the  ruling  powers  farther 
go? 

"  But  every  innovation  has  its  reaction.  The  common 
people  of  England,  in  those  early  days,  seeing  that  their 
beloved  H's  were  being  knocked  oft'  the  household  words, 
like  the  noses  from  the  Elgin  marbles,  revenged  them 
selves  by  clapping  an  Hin  front  of  every  naked  and  exposed 
vowel.  The  consequence  is  that  we  have  such  words  as 
i/icd(/e>  for  edge,  'AaZZ'for  ah1,  'hogshead*  for  oxhead, 
and  the  like.  It  would  be  too  much  of  a  task  to  cite  all 
the  corruptions  of  a  similar  nature  in  the  language.  The 
mere  mention  of  these  will  suggest  swarms  of  others, 
familiar  to  every  reader  of  ordinary  books,  to  say  nothing 
of  philologists. 

*  Tynvhitt  Ed.  page  12').     t  Ibid,  127.     J  Ibid,  121.     §  Ibid,  128. 


DOES  QUEEN  VICTORIA  SPEAK  ENGLISH?          87 

"Take  the  word  'hedge'  for  example.  Originally  it 
meant  something.  It  meant  an  edge,  a  boundary  of 
shrubs,  indicating  the  limit  of  the  field  or  of  the  estate. 
We  have  it  yet  in  '.box  edgings,'  which  are  partitions  of 
garden  beds,  and  meaning  the  same  thing  precisely. 
Shakspeare  says,  'Upon  the  edge  of  yonder  coppice,' 
etc.  (Loves  Labor  Lost,  IV,  I).  Now  it  has  lost  its  sig 
nificance  in  becoming  a  h'edge. 

"  So  with  the  word  '  hear'  We  speak  of  hearing  an 
argument.  That  would  be  considered  as  proper  Queen's 
English,  would  it  not  ?  But  suppose  any  one  should  say 
that  he  had  been  '  tieying*  a  street  fight  ?  Would  that 
not  be  a  painful  sound  to  ears  polite  ?  And  yet  both 
words  are  derived  from  their  original  substantives,  the 
ear  and  the  eye,  and  the  verb  to  'hear1  is  as  plain  a  cock- 
neyism  as  the  verb  to '  heye,' when  we  come  to  think  of  it. 
You  say  an  '  ear-witness'  as  well  as  an  '  eye-witness,'  do 
you  not?  If  anybody  should  say  an  'hear-witness,' 
what  would  you  think  of  that?  And  yet  it  is  no  greater 
an  impropriety  than  '  hear'  is  in  the  mouths  of  polite 
people.  No  one  can  for  a  moment  doubt  that  according 
to  the  mechanism  of  the  language,  '  to  ear1  a  person  is 
quite  as  proper  a  form  of  expression  as  'to  eye  a  person,' 
and  that  the  II  in  '  hear'  is  an  insupportable  cockneyism. 
So  with  the  superfluous  '  H'  in  'hall.'  In  old  mansions 
in  England,  the  main  apartments,  the  great  audience 
chamber,  the  dining-room,  the  vast  conservatory  where 
the  noble  guests  sat  above  the  salt,  where  the  pilgrim 


88  DOES  QUEEIST  VICTORIA  SPEAK  ENGLISH? 

warmed  his  rain-drenched,  threadbare  garments  by  the 
fire ;  where  the  minstrel  tuned  his  wretched  harp,  and 
every  condition  of  life  was  represented,  in  this  vast  vault 
ed  chamber,  the  'aulaS  the  atrium,  the  all  in  all  of  the 
manorial  and  baronial  residence,  what  right  had  an  H  to 
strike  out  the  significance  of  the  original  word  ?  There 
is  no  doubt  in  this  case  at  all.  For  the  '  Manor  All,'  the 
'  Town  All,9  and  so  on  in  ail  the  grand  old  English  words, 
must  be  replaced.  If  you  have  a  little,  narrow  strait  be 
tween  your  parlor  and  your  side  wall,  call  it  an  entry,  if 
you  will,  but  do  not  call  it  a  h'all. 

44  So  with 'the  bird  of  wisdom,  the  owl.     Everybody 
has  heard  her  note  who  has  lived  in  the  country.     It  is 

'  how,  how,  how,  how,  howl !'  From  this  we  get  the  namo 
of  this  fowl  of  Minerva.  The  bird  of  night,  in  the  new 
born  nakedness  of  early  English,  was  undoubtedly  the 

'Howl.'     We  find  it  still  in  its   diminutives,   such  as 

'  Howlet.' 

'And  keep  her  place  as  'Howk?  does  her  tower.' 

In  the  Scotch  vocabularies  Houlet  is  the  word,  not  owl. 
And,  by  the  way,  none  of  these  French  cockneyisniB 
appear  in  either  the  Scottish  or  Irish  dialects.  I  believe 
their  idiomatic  languages  to  be  purer  than  the  modern 
English.  Shakspeare  does  not  have  any  allusion  to  cock- 
neyism  in  his  time,  except  when  he  shows  his  knowledge 
of  the  Greek  language  in  his  Athenian  play,  by  putting  in 
to  the  mouth  of  Bottom  the  Weaver  ^Ercles  for  Hercules.* 

*  Midsummer  Night's  Dream,"  Act  I,  Scene  Second. 


DOES  QUEEN  VICTORIA  SPEAK  ENGLISH  ?          89 

"But  it  is  needless  to  multiply  examples.  Some 
vacancy  should  be  left  in  the  mind  of  the  listener,  which 
he  can  fill  up  himself  at  leisure.  Let  me  say  here,  how 
ever,  that,  save  Chaucer,  there  are  few  writers  of  our 
earlier  English  who  so  Frenchify  the  mother  tongue  as 
he  does.  In  Piers  Ploughman  *  we  have  hem  for  them, 
and  hire  for  their.  In  Robert  of  Gloster  f  we  find  '  hit' 
used  for  *  it,7  as  it  is  in  the  Lord's  Prayer  of  Richard  the 
Hermit,  and  so  it  is  used  to  this  day  by  some  of  the  Eng 
lish,  even  in  writing.  But  generally  the  language  of  these 
old  authors  was  pure,  as  indeed  it  was  from  the  tune  of 
Chaucer  to  the  Restoration.  After  King  Charles  II  came 
in,  we  had  the  French  affectation  introduced,  as  lively 
as  it  was  in  the  days  of  William  the  Conqueror. 

"Now  a  few  words  more:  there  is  the  word  'hatchet/ 
the  diminutive  of  axe,  the  original  of  which  is  eax,  Saxon, 
(or  astia,  Latin).  It  should  of  course  be  atchet.  So  we 
have  hatchment,  a  corruption  of  the  heraldric  word 
'  achievement?  meaning  an  armorial  escutcheon ;  then 
there  is  the  word  ability,  which,  in  the  dictionaries  of  a 
century  old,  is  spelled  properly,  ' liability?  or  able — 
'  hablej  from  the  French  ;  arquebus,  we  say,  instead  of 
fiarqucbus,  and  artichoke  instead  of  hartichoke,  and  the 
like. 

"Then,  again,   consider  the  number  of  words  from 
torhich  the  H  is  omitted  in  pronunciation:  'onorable,  'um- 


*  "  1362,"  or  Circa.        t  Tempus  Richard  II,  1174.     1208. 


90          DOES  QUEEN  VICTORIA  SPEAK  ENGLISH  ? 

ble,  'umor,  'eir,  'ome,  sweet  'ome,  'ow,  'onest,  and  the 
like.  Then,  again,  such  words  as  'ostler  for  hostler  (from 
host  or  hostel),  'arbor  for  harbor  (a  shelter),  Oboe  for 
haut  bois,  and  so  on,  where  the  abuse  is  sanctioned  by 
the  dictionary  makers. 

"You  will  commonly  find,  too,  that  well-educated 
Englishmen  (and  women)  say  'oo,  for  who,  'andiron  for 
hand'iron,  'ovv  for  how,  and  'anging  for  hanging.  They 
deny  it,  of  course,  and  will,  if  they  think  they  are  watch 
ed,  pronounce  these  words  properly,  but  they  are  sure  to 
relapse  as  soon  as  they  are  left  to  themselves.  If  you 
were  to  ask  Lord  John  Russell,  who  is  esteemed  to  be  as 
deep  in  erudition  as  he  is  in  diplomacy,  how  to  spell  the 
letter  H,  he  would,  no  doubt,  spell  it  a-i-t-c-h,  when  in 
truth  it  should  be  h-a-i-t-c-h,  with  a  strong  aspiration  on 
the  first  letter." 


CHAPTER  IL 

Olueen  Wctoria 


lj*2>0  continue,"  said  John  Common  of  Roscom- 
mon.    "To  leave  this  class  of  impediments 
of  speech  behind,  and  go  further,  we  find  many  defects  in 
modern  English,  derived  from  the  same  parentage.     For 
example  —  there  is  no  W  in  the  French  alphabet.     If  you 
were  to  ask  a  Frenchman  to  pronounce  the  name  of  the 
first  President  of  the  United  States,  he  would  say  "  Vash- 
ington,"  or  he  might,  by  a  strong  mental  effort,  get  as 
near  to  it  as  Guashington.     Just  as  if  you  were  to  ask  him 
the  name  of  the  second  President,  he  would  be  obliged  to 
reply  "  JIadams"  and  so  forth.     Now  there  is  not  one 
single  word  in  the  English  language  beginning  with  the 
letter  V  that  is  not  derived  from  the  French,  the  Spanish, 
the  Italian,  or  some  of  the  cognate  branches  of  the  Latin 
family  of  words.     There  is  no  V  in  the  Anglo-Saxon 
alphabet,  none  in   the   Moaso-Gothic,  from  which   two 
tongues  we  derive  our  mother  tongue,  none  in  the  earlier 
editions  of  English  authors  ;  take,  for  example,  Grafton's 
or  Holingshed's    Chronicles,  or  any  other  work  of  that 


92          DOES  QUEEN  VICTORIA  SPEAK  ENGLISH '{ 

period.  Hence  it  is  that  we  find  such  expressions  in  the 
modern  British  classics  as:  "  Now,  Shiny  Villiam,  give 
the  gen'lem'n  the  ribbons,"  *  "  veil  vot  of  it,"  f  or  "vofs 
the  use  of  giving  vay  so  long  as  you're  'appy  ;"  of  which 
forms  of  expression  numbers  could  be  produced  if  one 
could  give  his  mind,  his  time,  and  his  attention  to  it.  I 
do  not  mean  to  say  that  the  substitution  of  the  V  for  the 
W  is  common  to  the  upper  classes  of  Great  Britain.  Far 
from  it ;  but  I  do  mean  to  say  that  this  innovation  is 
creeping  up,  and  will,  by  and  by,  beget  a  class  of  words 
foreign  to  the  genius  of  the  English  tongue,  just  as  the 
dropping  of  the  H  has  produced  such  words  as  ostler  and 
arbor. 

In  confirmation  of  this,  let  me  state  that  a  distinguished 
traveler  and  philosopher,  Mr.  George  Gibbs,  of  Long 
Island,  after  a  residence  of  a  quarter  of  a  century  on  the 
Northwest  coast  of  this  continent,  has  writfen  a  dictionary 
of  the  Chinook  jargon,  or  Trade  Language  of  Oregon,  pre 
pared  for  the  Smithsonian  Institute,  Washington,  D.  C.,J 
in  which  he  shows  conclusively  that  the  Chinook,  the 
Nootkan,  the  Yakama,  the  Cathlasco  (which  is  a  cor 
rupted  form  of  the  Watlala  or  Upper  Chinook),  the 
Toquat  (which  he  spells  Tokwaht),  and  the  Nittinak  lan 
guages  have  been  corrupted  by  the  mis-pronunciation  of 
the  English  of  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company.  The  conse 
quence  is,  that  there  is  scarcely  an  H  in  its  proper  place 

*  Pickwick  Club,  Ed.  1836,  Vol.  I,  p.  95. 

t  The  Golden  Fanner,  a  play,  in  three  acts ;  author  unknown,  1835. 

t  Ed.  1863,  8vo.  p.  44. 


DOES  QUEEX  VICTORIA   SPEAK  ENGLISH?          93 

in  any  of  the  dialects  of  the  Northwestern  tribes  of  the 
Pacific,  and  Ws  are  substituted  for  Vs  to  such  an  extent, 
that  in  his  dictionary  not  one  word  beginning  with  the 
latter  consonant  can  be  discovered.  It  is,  however,  a 
consolation  to  know  that  these  are  the  most  prominent 
innovations  in  those  rich  and  beautiful  occidental 
tongues.  After  complaining  that  the  Spanish  and  French 
voyageurs  have  left  traces  of  their  languages  in  the  earlier 
Chinook,  he  says : 

"It  might  have  been  expected,  from  the  number  of 
Sandwich  Islanders  introduced  by  the  Hudson's  Bay 
Company,  that  the  Kanaka  element  would  have  found  its 
way  into  the  language,  but  their  utterance  is  so  foreign  to 
an  Indian  ear,  mat  not  a  word  has  been  adopted,"  * 

If  this  be  so,  we  can  imagine  what  a  highly  respectable 
tone  prevails  in  the  Kanaka  society  of  Queen  Emma. 

But  to  return.  The  substitution  of  the  French  "J7"' 
for  the  English  "TF""  led  to  the  retaliatory  process,  by 
which  every  free  born  Englishman  makes  all  things 
hequal.  Just  in  proportion  to  the  cockneyism  of  the 
upper  classes  in  the  middle  ages  arose  the  defiant  attitude 
of  the  cockneyism  of  the  lower  classes.  The  doubleyous 
began  to  crowd  into  the  lower  ten  million  vocabulary. 
"  TFeal  pie"  took  the  place  of  the  other  word:  — 

"  Even  the  tailors  'gan  to  brag, 
And  embroidered  on  their  flag, 

'AUT  WlXCERE  AUT  MORI.'  "  t 

*  Gibbs'  Dictionary  of  the  Chinook  Jargon,  Ed.  1803,  p.  viii,  (Pro- 
face). 

t  Thackeray's  Ballads,  Ed.  1856,  p.  121. 


94  DOES  QUEEN  VICTORIA  SPEAK  ENGLISH  ? 

There  was  a  stout  battle  between  the  starveling  French 
V  and  the  broad  bottohied  English  W,  and  to  this  day  it 
has  continued.  There  is  not  a  member  of  any  English 
legation  in  any  part  of  the  world,  at  this  present  time, 
who  dares  to  spell  "Vaterloo"  with  a  V.  And  this  is  in 
obedience  to  the  dictates  of  the  lower,  and,  I  might 
almost  say,  the  illiterate  classes  ;  for  after  all,  a  mob  has 
a  great  deal  to  do  with  fixing  the  expression  as  well  as 
the  meaning  of  words. 

Since  I  am  so  far  committed  to  this  subject,  I  must 
continue  a  little  longer  ;  but  let  me  say  here,  that  if  I  tax 
the  old  nation  from  which  we  are  derived,  with  speaking 
a  very  impure  language,  let  me  at  least  have  the  credit 
of  doing  so  in  a  friendly  spirit.  Let  us  with  one  hand 
soothe  the  American  Lexicographical  Eagle,  while  with 
the  other  we  smooth  the  bristling  mane  of  the  British 
Polyglot. 

In  further  confirmation  of  wThat  I  have  already  advanced, 
permit  me  to  recall  to  every  mind  another  phrase  of  the 
language  of  the  realm,  in  order  to  prove  that  the  queen 
speaks  broken  French.  I  do  not  mean  to  say  that  she 
does  so  intentionally,  for  surely  no  one  can  have  a  higher 
regard  for  that  good  lady  than  I  have.  In  fact,  we  are 
both  of  an  age  ;  both  born  on  the  same  day  of  the  same 
month  in  the  same  year,  perhaps  in  the  same  hour,  if 
degrees  of  longitude  could  be  computed  with  accuracy 
(of  different  parentage,  I  admit).  What  I  mean  to  say 
is,  that  she  speaks  imperfect  English,  both  of  herself  and 


DOES  QUEEN  VICTORIA  SPEAK  ENGLISH  ?          95 

through  her  ministers,  through  her  parliaments,  through 
her  lords  and  her  lord  mayors,  through  her  ladies  and  her 
laundresses,  through  her  British  museum,  and  her  Billings 
gate  market.  After  all  this  explanation,  which  might  lead 
to  a  digression,  let  me  return  to  the  point  that  I  intended 
to  make  when  I  said  that  the  queen  speaks  broken 
French. 

Nothing  is  more  striking  to  an  American  when  he  first 
visits  London  than  the  constant  misuse  of  the  French 
".J."  pronounced  aw  by  the  high  school  of  cockneys. 
The  lower  classes  of  her  majesty's  subjects  use  the  plain 
old  fashioned  English  "A."  as  an  expletive,  as  well  as  an 
offset  to  the  other  (a  fashion,  by  the  way,  derived  from 
the  Greeks,  for  their  language  is  full  of  expletives),  in 
tin's  manner — I  was  "a-going"  or,  I  was  " a-thinking," 
or,  I  was  "a-'oping,"  or,  I  was  "  a-hironing,"  and  so  on 
through  the  whole  family  of  verbs.  Now  this  misuse  of 
the  vowel  is  so  common  to  the  common  people,  that  to 
hear  it  from  the  lips  of  any  person  is  sufficient  to  suggest 
that  his  education  has  been  quite  imperfect.  This  being 
BO,  is  it  quite  fair  that  we  should  acquit  Lord  Brobdignag 
,of  a  similar  charge,  when  we  hear  him  read  from  a  master 
of  style,  thus:  "They  say-aw?  that  it  was  #?0-Liston's  firm 
belief,  that  he-aw  was  aw-great  and  neglected  tragic  ac- 
taw.  They  say-aw  that  ev-aw-iy  one  of  us  believes,  in 
his  heart,  or  would  like-aw  to  have  others  believe,  that 
he-aw  is  something  which  he  is  aw-not!" 

It  is  very  true,  as  Dr.  Samuel  Johnson  says  in  his  little 


96  DOES  QUEEN  VICTOKIA  SPEAK  ENGLISH? 

article  on  Orpiment,  that  "  talk  is  elastic."  But  even  talk 
he  mis-spells  (for  he  means  "talc,"  a  mineral),  neverthe 
less  we  will  accept  the  mistake  as  being  truer  than  his 
definition  in  every  way.  Talk  is  elastic  !  but  what  shall 
be  said  of  the  petrifiers  of  the  living  words  of  our  lan 
guage  ?  What  shall  we  say,  for  example,  of  the  abuses 
of  Webster's  Dictionary  ?  When  an  elastic  language 
becomes  a  concretion  of  fossils — when  its  life  has  gone 
out,  and  lexicographers  have  left  nothing  of  it  but  its 
organic  remains — what  should  be  done  with  them  ?  To 
compel  them  to  speak  plain  English  would  be  impossible, 
for  that  they  do  not  comprehend.  What  should  be  done 
with  them  ?  Surely  the  Cadmus  teeth  they  sow  should 
rise  up  and  reap  them. 

I  suppose,  in  time,  that  the  good  old  Engh'sh  word 
"Beef-eater,"  as  applied  to  those  broad-backed  warders 
of  the  Tower  of  London,  will  degenerate  into  "Bujfetier" 
(French),  as  now  a  revolution  is  being  effected  in  a  simi 
lar  word — and  "  cur,"  which  some  writers  claim  as  a 
Hindoo  word,  "  Ischur"  *  Blackstone  (a  famous  law 
writer  of  the  last  century),  has  endeavored  to  elevate  the 
tone  of  the  British  bar  by  changing  the  honest  old  name 
of  "  bum-bailey" in  this  wise:  He  says  "  that  the  special 
bailiffs  are  usually  bound  in  a  bond  for  the  due  execution 
of  their  office,  and  thence  are  called  'bound-bailiffs,' 


;  Dictionary  of  Cant  and  Slang.    London.     Ed.  1860,  p.  11. 


DOES  QUEEN  VICTORIA  SPEAK  ENGLISH  ?  97 

which  the  common  people  have  corrupted  into  a  much 
?nore  Iiomely  appellation,  burn-bailey!  "  * 

I  cannot  here  avoid  expressing  my  regret  that  a  very 
creditable  weekly  paper  in  the  British  booksellers'  interest 
in  London  should  have  its  classical  name  corrupted  into 
"a  much  more  homely  appellation."  I  mention  this  the 
more  cheerfully  from  the  fact  that  it  has  always  abused 
American  authors,  and,  therefore,  when  I  say  that  I  regret 
it,  you  will  understand  that  it  is  an  act  of  generosity  on 
my  part.  I  allude  to  the  At/ienceum,  which  has  never 
recovered  from  the  punishment  that  Bulwer  inflicted 
upon  it  when  he  called  it  the  "Ass-i-neum,"  a  name  by 
which  it  has  been  known  to  cultivated  people  in  all  parts 
of  the  world,  from  the  days  of  Paul  Clifford  down  to  this 
time. 

But  these  corruptions  of  the  language  we  must  frown 
down.  Let  us  take  a  bold  stand  against  other  cockney- 
isms  creeping  into  public  use,  such  as  "cab"  for  cabriolet, 
"pants"  for  pantaloons,  "canter"  from  the  Canterbury 
pilgrimages  at  the  good  old-fashioned  ambling  pace,  and 
the  like ;  for,  if  we  do  not,  the  age  of  progress  will  make 
the  word  "gentleman"  a  dead  language,  and  only  its 
cockney  substitute,  the  "ge?it,"  will  be  known  in  diction 
aries  and  newspapers. 

A  few  more  words  and  I  shall  wind  up  my  squid. 

There  is  a  slang  phrase  of  Parisian-French,  which  I 

*  Blackstoue's  Commentaries  cm  the  Laws  of  England.  4to.  Ox 
ford,  1766.  Book  I.,  Chap.  IX.,  p.  346 

7 


98  DOES  QUEEN  VICTORIA  SPEAK  ENGLISH? 

cannot  recall  at  this  moment,  that  expresses  a  peculiai 
way  of  shortening  words,  and  running  one  into  another, 
in  use  among  the  fashionable  people  of  the  continental 
metropolis,  so  that  it  is  very  difficult  for  a  novice  to  un 
derstand  their  aristocratic  argot. 

This  shrinkage,  this  corrugation,  this  wrinkling  up  of 
words,  so  that  a  good  long  sentence  which  should  be 
sonorous  and  expressive, becomes  as  shriveled  as  a  washer 
woman's  thumb,  is  beautifully  implanted  in  the  modern 
English.  Go  to  the  House  of  Lords  and  hear  the  debate 
between  Lord  Brobdignag  and  the  Marquis  of  Lilliput  I 
Only  by  the  skill  of  the  practiced  reporter  can  that  tongued 
and  grooved  dialect  be  interpreted.  I  shall  not  give  you 
a  sentence  by  way  of  example,  but  only  a  few  specimen 
bricks  of  this  modern  Babel. 

It  is  well  known  that  in  the  glorious  old  English 
tongue  every  word  carries  a  meaning  with  it,  a  little 
history  in  its  womb,  such  as  those  beautiful  phrases 
"belly-timber,"  as  applied  to  food,  and  "bread-basket," 
as  applied  to  its  receptacle.  So  the  lord  of  thousands  of 
broad  acres  in  Merrie  England — 

"Lovely  in  England's  fadeless  green." — Halleck — 

was  called  the  Earl  of  "Beau-champs"  from  the  Norman 
French,  as  in  Scotland  the  name  of  Campbell  is  derived 
from  an  Italian  origin  meaning  the  same  thing  as  Bean- 
champs,  "  Campo-bello."  Just  as  the  constellation  in  the 
Southern  hemisphere  called  "Charles'  Oak,"  recalls  the 


DOES  QUEEN   VICTORIA  SPEAK  ENGLISH?          99 

history  of  that  royal  and  ragged  refugee,  in  Boscobell,  s:> 
a  vast  number  of  words  in  English  once  represented  ideas. 
They  were  words  with  poetry  and  history  locked  up  within 
them,  like  flies,  in  perpetual  amber.  The  river  "Alne" 
in  Cumberland,  the  stream  celebrated  in  many  a  border 
fora}'',  has  upon  its  banks  the  ancient  town  of  Alnecester, 
and  the  "home  of  the  Percy's  high-born  race,"  Alnwick 
Castle.  Should  you  inquire  for  either  place,  there  is  not 
a  man  in  England  who  would  understand  you.  But  just 
ask  for  Anster  and  Annick,  and  there  is  not  a  red-coated 
boot-brushing  boy  in  the  neighborhood  of  Temple  Bar 
that  cannot  tell  you  where  to  find  the  train  that  will  carry 
you  to  the  residence  of  the  Lord's  of  Northumberland.  I 
remember  once  that  I  hired  a  post  and  pair  to  go  down  to 
Stratford-upon-Avon.  A  jaunty  postilion  in  spotless,  white 
dimity  knee  breeches,  white  top  boots,  silver-rimmed  hat 
band,  and  a  whole  carillon  of  bell  buttons  on  his  jacket, 
touched  his  hat  as  I  stepped  into  the  "  shay."  "Drive  me 
round,"  said  I,  "by  the  way  of  Charlecote  Hall!"  for  1 
wished  to  see  the  place  where  Shakspeare  was  tried  for 
deer-stealing.  That  was  a  puzzler.  The  friendly  landlord 
of  the  "  Warwick  Arms,"  the  aged  pensioner  of  the  Bear 
and  Ragged  Staff;  the  obsequious  waiter;  the  radical 
tailor,  who  made  red  riding  coats  for  fox-hunting  squires 

aucl  d d  them  in  the  bitterness  of  his  sartorial  soul ; 

the  small  boy  that  always  followed  a  stranger  as  the  mite- 
fly  follows  a  cheese ;  the  parochial  beadle  with  his  bell ; 
the  blue  eyes  of  the  chambermaid,  from  an  upper  story 


100        DOES  QUEEN  VICTORIA  SPEAK  ENGLISH? 

of  the  Warwick  Arms ;  all,  in  dire  suspense,  in  that  dewy 
morning,  waited  to  hear  the  reply  of  the  post-boy.  There 
was  no  reply.  Presently  an  imderhostler,  who  had  been 
hovering  around  the  horses  like  a  spiritual  gad-fly,  whose 
wings  were  horse-brush,  and  curry-comb,  spoke  out  in  a 
foggy  voice:  "P'raps  the  gemman  means  Chawcut?" 
Shade  of  Shakspeare !  And  chawcut  it  was,  as  everybody 
understood  it  there.  So  it  is  that  in  this  puckered-up 
English, — Warwick,  itself  a  splendidly  significant  name, 
becomes  Waric.  The  Beauchamp  Chapel  is  Beecham. 
Charlesbury  has  lost  its  ancient  significance  in  Chawbree. 
Cholmondely  is  Chranlee.  Berwick  of  old  renown, 
"royal  Berwick's  beach  of  sand, "is  now  Berric ;  Candle- 
wick  Street  in  London,  is  Cannick  ;  Gloucester  is  Gloster, 
Smithfield  is  Smiffld,  and  Worcester — Wooster !  So,  too, 
that  word  dear  to  every  domestic  tie,  "housewife,"  is 
"  hussif"  subtle  is  "suttle,"  and  High  Holburn,  I-olurn. 
Can  anybody  doubt  that  the  corruption  of  these  good 
old  expressive  English  words  into  bastard  French  is  not 
undermining  the  Queen's  English  ? 

And  the  mis-spelling  of  these  and  many  other  words 
will  soon  follow  the  mis-pronunciation,  as,  indeed,  some 
do  now — witness  "Gloster!"  I  once  hired  an  English 
hackman  to  take  me  from  a  once-celebrated  hotel  in  New 
York  to  a  once-celebrated  Hudson  river  steamboat.  It 
chanced  that  when  we  reached  the  wharf  the  boat  was 
casting  off,  and  the  driver  called  out  to  me,  "  You 'ad 
better  'urry  up,  sir,  or  she'll  be  h'off,  and  you  can  pay  me 


DOES  QUEEN  VICTORIA  SPEAK  ENGLISH  ?        101 

the  fare  when  you  get  'ome  agin."  So  when  I  did  get 
back  again,  and  asked  for  my  little  account,  he  referred 
to  his  pocket  remembrancer — "Mr.  C.,  June  14th,  1842. 
in.  o.  to  e.  u."  "What  does  that  mean?"  "'Alerican 
'Otel  to  'Endrick  'Udson,  sir!" 

"And  what,"  said  little  Tweedle,  "  are  we  to  do.  If 
we  go  to  England,  are  we  to  fly  in  the  face  of  every  man 
there  ?  are  we  to  insist  upon  our  own  pronunciation,  and 
endeavor  to  find  out  famous  localities  by  naming  them  in 
the  language  used  in  the  Saxon  Heptarchy  ?" 

" Certainly,"  said  John  Common  of  E-oscommon,  "I 
would  advise  you  to  agitate  this  subject ;  to  call  tilings  by 
their  right  names  in  that  benighted  kingdom ;  to  inquire 
for  places  that  nobody  can  tell  you  anything  about,  so 
that  you  can  teach  the  ignorant  natives  what  should  be  the 
names  of  their  choicest,  their  dearest,  their  most  cherished 
localities.  You  can  do  this  thing,  for  you  have  a  genius 
for  disturbing  the  old  herring-bone  foundations  of  ancient 
edifices.  And  I  will  give  you  all  the  glory  of  being  the 
pioneer,  if  you  choose  to  take  this  matter  of  reform  of 
the  tongue  upon  your  own  shoulders.  I  may  adopt  it 
also.  But  I  shall  not  trumpet  forth  my  claims  upon  the 
world  until  I  find  that  you  have  succeeded.  I  think  I- 
feel  a  fresh  breeze  creeping  up.  Haul  away  on  the  jib 
halyards !  Let  us  see  if  we  can't  work  up  the  creek. 
The  champagne  has  been  in  the  cooler  over  there  for  five 
hours  now  and  the  meats  only  go  to  the  brander  upon 
signal.  So  haul  up  the  dinner  signal !  Ah,  here  comes 
tho  breeze  !  Up  sails,  and  now  to  dinner." 


XIV. 

Koses  of  (Eminent 


)F  all  the  quadrupeds,  the  elephant  is,  unquestion 
ably,  the  most  sagacious.  And,  although  some 
have  fondly  imagined  that  his  sagacity  is  wholly  owing 
to  his  great  bulk  —  -just  as  we  are  apt  to  think  wrisdom  is 
peculiar  to  the  fat,  or  judgment  to  the  thickset  —  yet,  in 
justice  to  the  elephant,  we  must  not  allow  the  world  'to 
repose  upon  so  absurd  and  preposterous  an  error.  If 
mere  bulk  were  wisdom,  what  shall  be  said  of  the  hippo 
potamus  ;  of  coroners,  and  aldermen  ;  of  justices  of  the 
peace,  the  rh'irioceros,  and  the  commissioners  of  the  Patent- 
office  ;  of  prize-medal  pigs,  and  Gen.  —  ?  We  see,  at 
once,  the  fallacy  of  the  popular  belief,  when  we  consider 
the  very  opposite  relations  existing  between  bulk  and  wis 
dom,  in  the  above  examples.  It  is  needless  here  to  enter 
into  an  elaborate  detail  of  the  sympathetic  attachments 
of  the  brain  and  the  nose,  extending  through  an  infinite 
ramification  of  nerves,  arteries,  ganglions,  and  tissues, 
nor  of  the  power  of  the  organ  itself  to  express  emotion  ; 
to  scorn,  to  sneer,  to  snivel,  to  affirm,  or  deny  ;  to  put  itself 
intrusively  where  it  is  not  wanted;  to  be  arrogant,  haughty, 
conceited  :  to  suffer  indignities  ;  to  be  a  sleeping-trumpet, 


THE  NOSES  OF  EMINENT  MEN.  103 

and  a  moral,  psalm-singing  instrument  in  the  conventicle. 
The  relations  between  the  brain  and  this  organ,  are,  there 
fore,  nearly  equivalent  to  those  between  a  ship  and  its 
rudder — with  the  trifling  difference,  that  we  are  guided  by 
one,  and  led  by  the  other.  These  facts  being  established, 
all  that  is  required  to  be  known  further,  is,  whether  the* 
dimensions  of  a  nose  being  given,  it  is  possible  to  arrive 
at  a  fair  estimate  of  the  subsidiary  mental  power,  if  not, 
indeed,  at  a  regular  scale,  such  as  Kepler  has  laid  down 
with  regard  to  the  planetary  system.  To  this  we  answer 
in  the  affirmative.  Let  us  take  the  wisest  of  brutes  as  an 
instance.  The  height  of  the  tallest  elephant  in  the  jun 
gles  of  Africa  is  ten  feet  and  a  half,  and  the  length  of  his 
proboscis,  from  the  lower  suture  of  the'  coronal  bone  (os 
frontis),  to  the  tip,  is  exactly  seven  feet  and  an  inch. 
Now,  if  we  add  to  the  height  of  the  elephant  his  weight 
and  circumference,  we  find  the  proportion  of  the  organ 
to  the  sum  total  to  be  exactly  19  11-60  per  centum.  If 
we  take,  as  an  offset  to  this,  the  commonest  and  most 
familiar  zoological  example,  viz.,  the  proportions  exist 
ing  between  the  weight,  height,  and  bulk  of  the  hippo 
potamus,  and  the  length  of  his  nose,  we  find  them  ex 
pressed  in  round  numbers  by  the  fractions  132-33900. 
And  it  is  a  curious  scientific  fact,  that  the  mental  capaci 
ties  of  the  two  animals — I  mean  the  power  of  mind — the 
"  think"  that  is  in  them,  when  carefully  measured,  exhibit 
nearly  the  same  figures.  If,  then,  guided  by  these  as 
tonishing  results,  we  take  up  any  plethoric  body  of  men — • 
say  the  United  States  Congress,  or  the  State  Legislature, 


104  THE  XOSES  OF  EMINENT  MEN. 

for  instance — it  is  very  easy  to  determine  precisely  their 
intellectual  value,  in  a  psychological  point  of  view.  The 
average  of  a  board  of  aldermen,  reduced  to  the  scale  of 
half  an  inch  to  the  foot,  exhibits  so  near  an  approxima 
tion  to  the  proportions  of  the  lesser  animal,  that  we  might 
call  them  the  "  city  hippopotami",  and  be  accurate  enough 
for  ordinary  purposes.  On  the  other  hand,  if  we  attend 
a  meeting  of  strong-minded  women,  we  find  a  prodigious 
development  of  this  feature.  Strong-minded  women  have 
immense  noses,  with  some  flat  hats  and  a  variety  of  spec 
tacles.  Jews,  also,  are  singularly  gifted ;  but  we  make  al 
lowance  of  at  least  one-third  for  organs  of  this  pattern,  on 
account  of  the  natural  hook,  from  the  eyebrows  to  the  tip. 
We  once  had  the  honor  of  being  intimate  with  one  of  the 
most  profound  scholars  and  thinkers  in  Holland,  who  was 
so  long-nosed  and  near-sighted  that  he  wiped  out  with  his 
nose  half  of  what  he  wrote  with  his  pen — thereby  show 
ing  a  memorable  instance  of  wisdom.  The  average 
length  of  a  fully-developed,  intellectual,  male  nose,  is 
precisely  two  inches  and  a  half  from  the  indention  be 
tween  the  eyes  to  the  extreme  end  of  the  cartilage. 
Washington's  nose  was  2  5-8  inches  ;  but  the  presidential 
average  has,  so  far,  been  what  we  have  stated  above — 
Jeiferson,  for  example,  representing  the  longs,  and  Fill- 
more  the  shorts.  Wellington  and  Napoleon  differ  only 
the  sixteenth  of  an  inch,  both  being  above  the  average ; 
Lord  Brougham,  who  is  an  encyclopaedia  of  general  in 
formation,  follows  a  feature  three  inches  in  length !  the 
average  nose  of  the  Century  Club  is  29-16;  Thackeray's 


THE  NOSES  OF  EMINENT  MEN.  105 

nose  is  2  5-8 — precisely  the  length  of  the  nose  of  the 
"Father  of  his  country;"  President  Johnson's  is  2  9-16; 
Irving's,  2  7-12 ;  Bryant's,  2  6-11 ;  Dickens's,  2  3-8 ;  Du- 
rand's,  2  7-13 ;  Gen.  Scott's,  2  5-10;  Longfellow's,  2  6-11 ; 
Gen.  Sherman's  2  1-2 ;  Macaulay's,  2  5-9 ;  Farragut's, 
2  3-4 ;  Commodore  Wise's,  1  7-12 ;  Tennyson's,  2  4-7 ; 
Hoffman's,  2  7-13 ;  the  average  magazine  nose  of  this 
city  is  1  5-8 ;  in  Philadelphia,  1  7-8;  McClellan's  is  2  8-12; 
Verplaiicks',  2  5-8 ;  Bayard  Taylor's,  26-11;  we  shall 
have  Fredrika  Bremer's  by  next  steamer ;  the  nose  of  the 
Academy  of  Design,  2  5-9 ;  Browning's,  2  5-9 ;  Miss 
Mulock  has  a  very  respectable  feature  for  a  woman,  being 
2  1-4 ;  Jean  Ingelow,  2  1-8  ;  Bonner's,  2  1-2  ;  Seward's, 
nearly  3  inches,  and  our  own  a  snub. 

In  making  our  measurements,  we  have  had  the  greatest 
difficulties  to  encounter,  by  reason  of  the  foolish  desire 
of  many  to  be  represented  as  measuring  more  than  they  are 
entitled  to.  But,  as  we  know  by  experience  how  often 
scientific  data  are  put  aside  as  worthy  of  no  credit,  be 
cause  of  a  few  trifling  defects  or  errors,  we  have  been 
guided  only  by  our  instruments.  We  know  it  is  very 
hard  to  refuse  a  sixteenth  of  an  inch,  when  it  is  asked  by 
a  friend,  as  a  particular  favor,  but,  nevertheless,  our  "re 
flections"  must  be  accurate  and  reliable,  or  else  they  will  bo 
justly  condemned.  In  pursuance  of  our  theory,  we  have 
engaged  Mr.  Pike,  the  eminent  mathematical  instrument 
maker,  to  construct  for  us  a  noseometer,  of  the  greatest 
capacity,  and  will,  from  time  to  time,  furnish  our  readers 
with  the  results  of  the  observations  taken  therewith. 


XV. 

(From  tlie  Bunkum  Flagstaff  and  Independen 

ISunftum 


UST  opened,  with  100,000  Curiosities,  and  perform 
ance  in  Lecter  Room  ;  among  which  may  be  found 

TWO  LIVE  BOAR  CONSTRICTERS, 
Mail  and  Femail. 

ALSO  !  ! 
A  STRIPED  ALGEBRA,  STUFT. 

BESIDES  !  ! 

A  PAIR  OF  SHUTTLE  COCKS 
AND  ONE  SHUTTLE  HEN—  alive' 

THE! 

SWORD  WHICH  GEN.  WELLINGTON  FIT  WITH 

AT  THE  BATTEL  OF  WATERLOO  !  whom  is 

six  feet  long  and  broad  in  proportion. 

WITH!!! 

A  ENORMOUS  RATTLETAIL  SNAKE—  a  regular 
whopper  ! 


BUNKUM    MUSEUM. 


107 


AND! 
THE  TUSHES  OF  A  HIPPOTENTJSE ! 

Together  with! 
A  FINGAL  TIGER:  AND  A  SPOTTED  LEPROSY! 

Besides 

THE  GREAT  MORAL  SPECTACLE  OF 
"MOUNT  VESUVIUS." 

PART  ONE. 

Seen  opens.  Distant  Moon.  View  of  Bey  of  Napels. 
A  thin  smoke  rises.  It  is  the  Beginning  of  the  Eruction  ! 
The  Napels  folks  begin  to  travel.  Yaller  fire,  follered  by 
silent  thunder.  Awful  consternation.  Suthin  rumbles  ! 
It  is  the  Mounting  preparin'  to  Expectorate!  They  call 
upon  the  Fire  Department.  Ifs  no  use!  Flight  of  stool- 
pidgeons.  A  cloud  of  impenetrable  smoke  hang  over  the 
fated  city,  through  witch  the  Naplers  are  seen  makin' 
tracks.  Awful  explosion  of  bulbs,  kurbs,  torniquets,  pin 
weels,  serpentiles,  and  terrapins!  The  Moulting  Laver 
begins  to  squash  out ! 

End  of  Part  One. 

COMIC  SONG. 
The  Parochial  Beedle Mr.  Mullet. 

LIVE  INJUN  ON  THE  SLACK  WIRE. 
Live  Injun Mr.  Mullet. 

OBLIGATIONS  ON  THE  CORNUCOPIA,  BY 

SIGNOR  VERMICELLI. 

* 

Signer  Vermicelli Mr.  Mullet. 


108  BUNKUM    MUSEUM. 

In  the  course  of  the  evening  will  be  an  exhibishun  of 
Exileratin'  Gas  !  upon  a  Laffin  Highena ! 

Laffin  Highena Mr.  Mullet. 

PAET  TWO. 

Bey  of  Napels  voluminated  by  Gondola  Lites.  The  lava 
gushes  down.  Through  the  smoke  is  seen  the  city  in  a 
state  of  conflagration.  The  last  family !  ' l  Whar  is  our 
'parents  ?"  A  red  hot  stone  of  eleving  tuns  weight  falls 
onto  'em.  The  bearheaded  father  falls  scentless  before 
the  statoo  of  the  Virgin !  DenwnongU 

The  hole  to  conclude  with  a 

GRAND  SHAKSPEAEING  PYBOLIGNEOUS 

DISPLAY  OF  FIEEWUEX!! 

Maroon  Bulbs,  changing  to  a  spiral  weel,  witch  changes 
to  the  Star  of  our  Union :  after,  to  butiful  p'ints  of  red 
lites ;  to  finish  with  busting  into 

A  BEILLIANT  PERSPIRATION! 

During  the  performance  a  No.  of  Popular  Airs  will  be 
performed  on  the  Scotch  Fiddle  and  Bag-pipes,  by  a  real 
Highlander. 

Real  Highlander Mr.  Mullet. 

Any  boy  making  a  muss,  will  be  injected  to  once't. 

As  the  Museum  is  Temperance,  no  drrnkin'  aloud,  but 
anyone  will  find  the  best  ©flickers  in  the  Sic  on  below. 


XVI 

rtje 


A  LEAF  FROM  A  NEW  BOOK. 


>HE  clouds  now  began  to  break  away — once 
more  we  see  the  distant  peaks  of  the  Sie- 
bengebirge  and  the  castled  crag  of  Drachenfels — a  flush 
of  warm  sunlight  illuminates  the  wet  deck  of  the  Schnel- 
fahrt ;  the  passengers  peep  out  of  the  companion-way, 
and  finally  emerge  boldly,  to  inhale  the  fresh  air  and  in 
spect  the  beauties  of  the  Rhine.  As  for  the  Miller  of 
Zurich,  he  had  taken  the  shower  as  kindly  as  a  duck, 
shaking  the  drops  from  his  grey  woolly  coat,  as  they  fell, 
and  tossing  off  green  glass  after  green  glass  of  Liebfrauen- 
milch,  or  Assmanshauser,  from  either  bottle.  Betimes  his 
pretty  wife  joined  us,  and  walked  on  tip-toe  over  the  wet 
spots  ;  the  sun  came  out,  hotter  and  hotter ;  the  deck, 
the  little  tables,  the  wooden  seats,  began  to  smoke  ;  over 
coats  came  off,  shawls  were  laid  aside ;  plates  piled  up  with 


110  UP    THE    KIIINE. 

sweet  grapes  and  monstrous  pears,  green  glasses,  and  tall 
flasks  of  Rhine  wine,  were  handed  around  to  the  ladies, 
and  distributed  on  the  tables  ;  and  the  red-cheeked  Ger 
man  boy  whose  imitations  of  English  had  so  amused  us, 
B'.outed  the  captain's  orders  to  the  engineer  below,  in  a 
more  cheery  voice — '  Store  !  backor!  forrorF  " 

I  had  had  an  indistinct  vision  of  a  pair  of  whiskers  at 
the  far  end  of  the  breakfast  table,  brushed  out  d  VAng- 
laise  in  parallel  lines,  as  thin  as  a  gilder's  camel's  hair 
brush.  These  whiskers  now  came  up  on  deck,  attached 
to  a  very  insignificant  countenance,  a  check  cap,  and  a 
woollen  suit  of  purplish  cloth,  such  as  travellers  from 
Angleterre  enjoy  scenery  in.  Across  the  right  breast  of 
this  person,  a  narrow  black  strap  of  patent  leather  wound 
its  way  until  it  found  a  green  leather  satchel,  just  across 
his  left  hip ;  while  over  his  left  breast,  a  similar  strap 
again  wound  around  him,  and  finally  attached  itself  to  a 
gigantic  opera  glass  in  a  black  leather  case.  All  these 
implements  of  travel,  with  little  else  to  note,  paced 
solemnly  up  and  down  the  now  dry  deck  of  the  Schnel- 
fahrt. 

In  the  meantime,  my  glass,  map,  guide  book,  were  all 
in  action,  castle  following  castle,  Rolandseek,  Rheineck, 
Andernach,  and  all  the  glorious  panorama,  rolling  in  view 
with  every  turn  of  the  steamer.  And  chiefly  I  enjoyed 
the  conversation  of  my  Miller  of  Zurich,  whose  plump 
forefinger  anticipated  the  distant  towers  and  battlements 
which  he  had  seen  so  often,  for  so  many  times,  in  yearly 


IF    THE    RHINE.  Ill 

trips  upon  the  river.  Nor  was  I  alone,  for  from  every 
stand-point  of  the  deck  were  fingers  pointed,  and  glasses 
raised,  at  the  glories  of  the  castellated  Rhine. 

But  in  the  midst  of  this  excitement  and  enthusiasm, 
that  purple  traveller,  with  whiskers  and  straps,  satchel 
and  opera  glass,  walked  up  and  down,  unobservant  of 
the  scenery,  miserable  and  melancholic,  without  a  glance 
at  the  vineyards,  or  the  mountains,  or  the  castles.  Then 
I  knew  that  he  was  an  Englishman,  doing  the  Rhine. 

He  walked  up  to  our  table,  where  old  Zurich  and  his 
pretty  wife  were  seated  before  the  grapes  and  the  wine, 
where  my  shawl  and  satchel  were  flung — map  spread, 
and  guide-book  open — and  said,  in  that  peculiar  English 
voice  which  always  suggests  catarrh — 

"  Going  up  the  Rhine,  sir?" 

"Rather"  said  I,  drily   (for  I  hate  bores). 

"Aw!" — now  the  reader  must  translate  for  himself — 
' '  Forst  time  ye'  beene  h'yar  ?" 

"  Yes,"  I  answered,  "is  it  your  first  visit  also?" 

"Aw — no  !  'been*  hea-r  pu'foh  ;  sev-wal  taimes.  How 
fawr  'goin,  sawr?"  (Don't  talk  of  Yankee  inquisitive- 
ness). 

"To  Mayence,  and  no  further  this  evening."  (Opera 
glass  leveled  directly  at  Ehrenbreitstein). 

".Gaw'ngtoHydl'bugf 

"I  think  so." 

"HydPbug's  'good  bisness  ;  do  it  up  In  'couple  of 
awhrs." 


112  UP   THE    KHUSTE. 

Here  old  Zurich  makes  a  remark,  and  says: — 

"  Military  engineers  build,  that  other  military  engineers 
may  destroy." 

MYSELF. — "Are  those  yellow  lines  against  the  hill 
masonry  ? — parapets  ?" 

OLD  ZURICH. — "Fortified  from  top  to  bottom." 

"Gaw'ng  to  Italy?"  chimes  in  the  camel's  hair 
whiskers. 

"  No  "  (decidedly  no). 

"Gaw'ng  to  Sowth  'f  Fwance?" 

"Probably." 

"Wai,  if  'r  not  gaw'n  t'  Italy,  and  you'r  gaw'n  to 
South  'f  Fwance — gaw'n  to  Nim  ?" 

"  To  Nwnes  f  what  for  ?" 

"  'F  yawr  not  gaw'n  to  Rhawm,  it's  good  bisness  to  go 
to  Nim — they've  got  a  ring  thar." 

"A  ring  ?" 

"Yas,  'ontyeknaw?" 

"A  ring?" 

"  Yas — saim's  they  got  at  Rhaonier  good  bisness  that — 
do  it  up  in  tow  hawrs ;  early  Christians,  y'  knaw,  and 
wild  beasts !" 

"  Oh,  you  mean  the  Roman  amphitheatre  at  Nismes — 
u  sort  of  miniature  Coliseum." 

"Yaas,  Col's'in." 

"  No,  sir,  I  am  not  going  to  Nismes" — another  look  at 
Ehrenbreitstein  and  its  shattered  wall. 

"Never  be'n  up  th'  Rhine  before,"  quoth  whiskers. 


UP   THE    RHINE. 

"No," — we  are  approaching  the  banks  of  the  "Blue 
Moselle." 

"  Eh'nbreitstine's  good  bisness,  and  that  sort  o'  thing 
— do't  in  about  two  hawrs ! " 

"I  do  not  intend  to  stop  at  Ehrenbreitstein,  and, 
therefore,  intend  to  make  the  best  use  of  my  time  to  see 
the  general  features  of  the  fortress  from  the  river." 

"Aw — then  y'd  better  stop  at  Coblanz,  and  go  t'  Wis- 
bad'n,  by  th'  rail." 

"What  for?" 

"Why,  the  Rhine,  you  know,  's  a  tiresome  bisness, 
and  by  goin'  to  Wisbawd'n  from  Coblanz,  by  land,  you 
escape  all  that  sort  aw-thing." 

"  But  I  do  not  wish  to  escape  all  this  sort  of  thing — 
I  want  to  see  the  Rhine." 

"Aw!" — with  some  expression  of  surprise.  "Going 
to  Switz'land  ?" 

"Yes." 

"  Y'  got  Moy  for  Switz'land?" 

"  Moy  ?     I  beg  your  pardon." 

"  Yes,  Moy— Moy ;  got  Moy  for  Switz'land  ?" 
*     "  Moy — do  you  mean  money  ?    I  hope  so." 

"  Ged  Gad,  sir,  no  !     I  say  Moy." 

"Upon  my  word,  I  do  not  comprehend  you." 

"Moy,  sir,  Moy!"  rapping  vehemently  on  the  red 
cover  of  my  guide  book  that  lay  iipon  the  table.  "I  say 
Moy  for  Switz'land." 

"  Oh,  you  mean  Murray." 

4 '  Certainly,  sir,  didn't  I  say  Moy  ?" 


XVII. 


E  impenetrable  veil  of  antiquity  hangs  over  the 
antediluvian  oyster,  but  the  geological  finger-post 
points  to  the  testifying  fossil.  We  might,  in  pursuing 
this  subject,  sail  upon  the  broad  pinions  of  conjecture 
into  the  remote,  or  flutter  with  lighter  wingj  in  the 
regions  of  fable,  but  it  is  unnecessary  :  the  mysterious 
pages  of  Nature  are  ever  opening  freshly  around  us,  and 
in  her  stony  volumes,  amid  the  calcareous  strata,  we  be 
hold  the  precious  mollusc  —  the  primeval  bivalve, 

-  "rock-ribbed!  and  ancient  as  the  sun."  —  BRYAOT. 
Yet,  of  its  early  history  we  know  nothing.     Etymol 
ogy  throws  but  little  light  upon  the  matter.    In  vain  have 
we  carried   our  researches   into   the   vernacular  of  the 
maritime  Phoenicians,  or  sought  it  amid  the  fragments  of 
Chaldean  and  Assyrian  lore.     To  no  purpose  have  we 
analyzed  the  roots  of  the  comprehensive  Hebrew,  or  lost 
ourselves  in  the  baffling  labyrinths  of  the  oriental  San 
scrit.     The  history  of  the  ancient  oyste1'  is  written  in  no 
language,  except  in  the  universal  idiom  of  the  secondary 


THE   FIRST    OYSTER-EATER.  115 

strata !  Nor  is  this  surprising  in  a  philosophical  point  of 
view.  Setting  aside  the  pre- Adamites,  and  taking  Adam 
as  the  first  name-giver^  when  we  reflect  that  Adam  lived 
ix-land,  and  therefore  never  saw  the  succulent  periphery 
in  its  native  mud,  we  may  deduce  this  reasonable  con 
clusion  :  viz.,  that  as  he  never  saw  it,  he  probably  never 
NAMED  it — never! — not  even  to  his  most  intimate  friends. 
Such  being  the  case,  we  must  seek  for  information  in  a 
later  and  more  enlightened  age.  And  here  let  me  take 
occasion  to  remark,  that  oysters  and  intelligence  are 
nearer  allied  than  many  persons  imagine.  The  relations 
between  Physiology  and  Psychology  are  beginning  to  be 
better  understood.  A  man  might  be  scintillant  with 
facetiousness  over  a  plump  "Shrewsbury,"  who  would 
make  a  very  sorry  figure  over  a  bowl  of  water-gruel. 
The  gentle,  indolent  Brahmin,  the  illiterate  Laplander, 
the  ferocious  Libyan,  the  mercurial  Frenchman,  and  the 
stolid  (I  beg  your  pardon),  the  stalwart  Englishman,  are  not 
more  various  in  their  mental  capacities  than  in  their  table 
aesthetics.  And  even  in  this  century,  we  see  that  wit 
and  oysters  come  in  together  with  September,  and  wit 
and  oysters  go  out  together  in  May — a  circumstance  not 
without  its  weight,  and  peculiarly  pertinent  to  the  subject- 
matter.  With  this  brief  but  not  irrelevant  digression,  I 
will  proceed.  We  have  "  Ostreum"  from  the  Latins, 
"  Oester"  from  the  Saxons,  "  Auster"  from  the  Teutons, 
"  Ostra"  from  the  Spaniards,  and  "  Huitre"  from  the 
French — words  evidently  of  common  origin — threads  spun 


116  THE   FIESt    OYSTEK-EATER. 

from  the  same  distaff!  And  here  our  archaeology  narrows 
to  a  point,  and  this  point  is  the  pearl  we  are  in  search  of : 
viz.,  the  genesis  of  this  most  excellent  fish. 

"Words  evidently  derived  from  a  common  origin." 
What  origin  ?  Let  us  examine  the  venerable  page  of  his 
tory.  Where  is  the  first  mention  made  of  oysters  ?  Hu- 
dibras  says:  — 

"  '  the  Emperor  Caligula, 

Who  triumphed  o'er  the  British  seas, 

Took  crabs  and  '  OYSTERS'  prisoners  (mark  that !) 

And  lobsters,  'stead  of  cuirassiers ; 

Engaged  his  legions  in  fierce  bustles, 

With  periwinkles,  prawns,  and  muscles, 

And  led  his  troops  with  furious  gallops, 

To  charge  whole  regiments  of  scallops, 

Not,  like  their  ancient  way  of  war, 

To  wait  on  his  triumphal  car, 

But  when  he  went  to  dine  or  sup, 

More  bravely  ate  his  captives  up ; 

Leaving  all  war  by  his  example, 

Reduced — to  vict'lingofa  camp  well." 

This  is  the  first  mention  in  the  classics  of  oysters  ;  and 
we  now  approach  the  cynosure  of  our  inquiry.  From  this 
we  infer  that  oysters  came  originally  from  Britain.  The 
word  is  unquestionably  primitive.  The  broad  open 
vowelly  sound  is,  beyond  a  doubt,  the  primal,  sponta 
neous  thought  that  found  utterance  when  the  soft, 
seductive  mollusc  first  exposed  its  white  bosom  in  its 
pearly  shell  to  the  enraptured  gaze  of  aboriginal  man ! 
Is  there  a  question  about  it  ?  Does  not  every  one  know, 


THE    FIRST    OYSTER-EATER.  117 

when  he  sees  an  oyster,  that  that  is  its  name?  And 
hence  we  reason  that  it  originated  in  .Britain,  was 
latinized  by  the  .Romans,  replevined  by  the  Saxons, 
corrupted  by  the  Teutons,  and  finally  barbecued  by 
the  French.  Oh,  philological  ladder  by  which  we  mount 
upward,  until  we  emerge  beneath  the  clear  vertical  light 
of  Truth !  !  Methinks  I  see  the  FIRST  OYSTER-EATER  ! 
A  brawny,  naked  savage,  with  his  wild  hair  matted  over 
his  wild  eyes,  a"  zodiac  of  fiery  stars  tattooed  across  his 
muscular  breast — unclad,  unsandaled,  hirsute  and  hungry 
— he  breaks  through  the  underwoods  that  margin  the 
beach,  and  stands  alone  upon  the  sea-shore,  with  nothing 
in  one  hand  but  his  unsuccessful  boar-spear,  and  nothing 
in  the  other  but  his  fist.  There  he  beholds  a  splendid 
panorama!  The  west  all  aglow;  the  conscious  waves 
blushing  as  the  warm  sun  sinks  to  their  embraces ;  the 
blue  sea  on  his  left ;  the  interminable  forest  on  his  right ; 
and  the  creamy  sea-sand  curving  in  delicate  tracery  be 
tween.  A  Picture  and  a  Child  of  Nature !  Delight- 

O 

edly  he  plunges  in  the  foam,  and  swims  to  the  b*ild  crown 
of  a  rock  that  uplifts  itself  above  the  waves.  Seating 
himself  he  gazes  upon  the  calm  expanse  beyond,  and 
-  swings  his  legs  against  the  moss  that  spins  its  filmy  ten 
drils  in  the  brine.  Suddenly  he  utters  a  cry ;  springs  up ; 
the  blood  streams  from  his  foot.  With  barbarous  fury 
he  tears  up  masses  of  sea  moss,  and  with  it  clustering 
families  of  testacea.  Dashing  them  down  upon  the  rock, 
he  perceives  a  liquor  exuding  from  the  fragments ;  he 


118  THE    FIRST    OYSTER-EATER. 

sees  the  white  pulpy  delicate  morsel  half  hidden  in  the 
cracked  shell,  and  instinctively  reaching  upward,  his 
hand  finds  his  mouth,  and  amidst  a  savage,  triumphant 
deglutition,  he  murmurs — OYSTER!  !  Champing  in  his 
uncouth  fashion  bits  of  shell  and  sea-weed,  with  uncon-^ 
trollable  pleasure  he  masters  this  mystery  of  a  new  sen 
sation,  and  not  until  the  gray  veil  of  night  is  drawn  over 
the  distant  waters,  does  he  leave  the  rock,  covered  with 
the  trophies  of  his  victory. 

We  date  from  this  epoch  the  maritime  history  of 
England.  Ere  long,  the  reedy  cabins  of  her  aborigines 
clustered  upon  the  banks  of  beautiful' inlets,  and  over 
spread  her  long  lines  of  level  beaches ;  or  penciled  with 
delicate  wreaths  of  smoke  the  savage  aspect  of  her  rocky 
coasts.  The  sword  was  beaten  into  the  oyster-knife,  and 
the  spear  into  oyster  rakes.  Commerce  spread  her  white 
wings  along  the  shores  of  happy  Albion,  and  man 
emerged  at  once  into  civilization  from  a  nomadic  stato 
From  this  people  arose  the  mighty  nation  of  Ostrogoths. , 
from  the  Ostraphagi  of  Ancient  Britain  came  the  custom 
of  Ostracism — that  is,  sending  political  delinquents  to 
that  place  where  they  can  get  no  more  oysters. 

There  is  a  strange  fatality  attending  all  discoverers1  -' 
Our  Briton  saw  a  mighty  change  come  over  his  country — 
a  change  beyond  the  reach  of  memory  or  speculation. — 
Neighboring  tribes,  formerly  hostile,  were  now  linked 
together  in  bonds  of  amity.  A  sylvan,  warlike  people 
had  become  a  peaceful,  piscivorous  community ;  and  he 


THE   FIRST    OYSTER-EATER.  119 

himself,  once  the  lowest  of  his  race,  was  now  elevated 
above  the  dreams  of  his  ambition.  He  stood  alone  upor 
the  sea-shore,  looking  toward  the  rock,  which,  years  ago, 
had  been  his  stepping-stone  to  power,  and  a  desire  to 
revisit  it  came  over  him.  He  stands  now  upon  it.  The 
season,  the  hour,  the  westerly  sky,  remind  him  of  former 
times.  He  sits  and  meditates.  Suddenly  a  flush  of 
pleasure  overspreads  his  countenance ;  for  there  just 
below  the  flood,  he  sees  a  gigantic  bivalve — alone — with 
mouth  agape,  as  if  yawning  with  very  weariness  at  the 
solitude  in  wrhicli  it  found  itself.  What  I  am  about  to 
describe  may  be  untrue.  But  I  believe  it.  I  have  heard 
of  the  waggish  propensities  of  oysters.  I  have  known 
them,  from  mere  humor,  to  clap  suddenly  upon  a  rat's 
tail  at  night ;  and,  what  with  the  squeaking  and  the  clat 
ter,  we  verily  thought  the  devil  had  broken  loose  in  the 
cellar.  Moreover,  I  am  told  upon  another  occasion, 
when  a  demijohn  of  brandy  had  burst,  a  large  "  Blue- 
pointer  "  was  found,  lying  in  a  little  pool  of  liquor,  just 
drunk  enough  to  be  careless  of  consequences — opening 
and  shutting  his  shells  with  a  ' '  devil-may-care  "  air,  as 
if  he  didn't  value  anybody  a  brass  farthing,  but  was  go 
ing  to  be  as  noisy  as  he  possibly  could. 

But  to  return.  When  our  Briton  saw  the  oyster  in 
this  defenseless  attitude,  he  knelt  down,  and  gradually 
reaching  his  arm  toward  it,  he  suddenly  thrust  his  lingers 
in  the  aperture,  and  the  oyster  closed  upon  them  with  a 
spasmodic  snap !  In  vain  the  Briton  tugged  and  roared ; 


120  THE   FIRST   OYSTER-EATER. 

he  might  as  well  have  tried  to  uproot  the  solid  rock  as  to 
move  that  oyster !  In  vain  he  called  upon  his  heathen 
gods — Gog  and  Magog — older  than  Woden  and  Thor ; 
and  with  huge,  uncouth,  dyuidical  oaths  consigned  all 
shell-fish  to  Nidhogg,  Hela,  and  the  submarines.  Bivalve 
held  on  with  "a  will."  It  was  nuts  for  him  certainly. 
Here  was  a  great,  lubberly,  chuckle-headed  fellow,  the 
destroyer  of  his  tribe,  with  his  fingers  in  chancery,  and 
the  tide  rising  !  A  fellow  who  had  thought,  like  ancient 
Pistol,  to  make  the  world  his  oyster,  and  here  was  the 
oyster  making  a  world  of  him.  Strange  mutation  !  The 
poor  Briton  raised  his  eyes :  there  were  the  huts  of  his 
people;  he  could  even  distinguish  his  own,  with  its 
slender  spiral  of  smoke ;  they  were  probably  preparing  a 
roast  for  him ;  how,he  detested  a  roast !  Then  a  thought 
of  his  wife,  his  little  ones  awaiting  him,  tugged  at  his 
heart.  The  waters  rose  around  him.  He  struggled, 
screamed  in  his  anguish ;  but  the  remorseless  winds  dis 
persed  the  sounds,  and  ere  the  evening  moon  arose  and 
flung  her  white  radiance  upon  the  placid  waves,  the  last 
billow  had  rolled  over  the  FIRST  OYSTER-EATER  ! 

I  purpose  at  some  future  time  to  show  the  relation  ex 
isting  between  wit  and  oysters.  It  is  true  that  Chaucer 
(a  poet  of  considerable  promise  in  the  Fourteenth  Cen 
tury)  has  alluded  to  the  oyster  in  rather  a  disrespectful 
manner ;  and  the  learned  Du  Bartas  (following  the  elder 
Pliny)  hath  accused  this  modest  bivalve  of  "  being  incon 
tinent,"  a  charge  wholly  without  foundation,  for  there  is 


THE    FIRST    OYSTER-EATER.  121 

not  a  more  chaste  and  innocent  fish  in  the  world.  But 
the  rest  of  our  poets  have  redeemed  it  from  foul  aspersions 
in  numberless  passages,  among  which  we  find  Shak- 
speare's  happy  allusion  to 

"  Rich  honesty  dwelling  in  a  POOR  house." 

And  no  one  now,  I  presume,  will  pretend  to  deny,  that 
it  hath  been  always  held 

"  Great  in  mouths  of  wisest  censure !  " 

In  addition  to  a  chapter  on  wit  and  oysters,  I  also  may 
make  a  short  digression  touching  cockles  and  lobsters. 


XVIII. 

&  ILtterarB  (Eurtosttg.* 

JACAULAY  in  the  Exordium  to  his  History,  proposed 
to  bring  his  narrative  down  "to  a  period  within 
the  memory  of  men  still  living."  The  phrase  was  doubt 
less  chosen  for  its  ambiguity  ;  so  as  to  delude  or  to  ex 
clude  some  notice  of  our  Revolution.  If  the  following 
extracts  be  genuine  (and  for  their  authenticity  I  do  not 
vouch),  they  favor  the  former  hypothesis.  They  purport 
to  be  sketches  for  a  future  volume :  stone,  rough  hewn, 
for  an  edifice  which,  alas !  the  master  did  not  live  to  com 
plete.  KISTOEICUS. 

CHARACTER  OF  WASHINGTON. 

"The  post  of  Commander-in-Chief  of  the  insurgent 
armies  was  of  vital  importance.  Yet,  the  man  who,  ot 
all  men,  was  fitted  to  fill  such  a  post  adequately  was  at 
hand.  The  Congress  knew  it ;  and  with  a  unanimity 
that  rarely  marked  their  proceedings,  selected  George 
Washington — a  delegate  from  Virginia.  The  reader  will 
naturally  pause  at  the  mention  of  a  name  which  is  re 
garded  with  fond  idolatry  by  a  federation  of  great  com 
monwealths  ;  which  History  has  admitted  into  the  com 
pany  of  founders  of  empire  with  Romulus  and  Gustavus, 
*See  Preface. 


A   LITERARY    CURIOSITY.  123 

and  into  the  roll  of  great  captains  with  Hannibal  and 
Frederic :  and  which  is  pronounced  with  equal  veneration 
on  the  banks  of  the  Thames  and  on  the  banks  of  the 
Ganges.  Both  the  circumstances  of  his  birth  and  the 
circumstances  of  his  education  had  fitted  him  for  the  part 
he  was  called  on  to  play.  In  his  blood,  of  English  origin, 
there  was  blended  something  of  the  fiery  valor  of  the 
cavaliers  of  Rupert,  with  something  of  the  resolute  energy 
of  the  soldiers  of  Oliver.  His  form,  in  its  matchless  union 
of  vigor  and  grace,  had  foiled  the  pencil  of  Stuart  and  the 
chisel  of  Chantry.  He  had  known  the  salutary  discipline 
of  early  toil.  With  his  stipend  of  a  guinea  a  day  as  a 
surveyor,  he  had  acquired,  in  youth,  the  art  of  controlling 
himself.  In  manhood,  by  the  exercise  of  patriarchal 
dominion  over  thousands  of  acres  and  hundreds  of  slaves, 
he  had  acquired  the  art  of  controlling  others.  Equally 
fortunate  had  been  his  public  career.  He  had  served  in 
the  armies  of  the  Crown,  and  against  the  natives  of  the 
wilderness.  He  had  thus  learned  something,  both  of  des 
ultory  and  of  disciplined  warfare.  At  a  later  day,  and 
on  a  wider  theatre,  his  knowledge  of  the  one  enabled  him 
to  surprise  the  Hessians  at  Trenton ;  and  his  knowledge 
of  the  other  to  entangle  Cornwallis  in  the  toils  of  York- 
town. 

"  His  courage  was  of  the  truest  temper.  Stoic  savages 
told  with  wonder  how  he  alone  was  calm  when  the  sol 
diers  of  Braddock  were  slaughtered  like  sheep  ;  and  Con 
tinental  veterans  loved  to  narrate  how  his  face  shone  with 


124  A    LITERARY    CURIOSITY. 

heroic  fire  as  he  rallied  the  broken  battalions  at  Mon- 
mouth.  His  intellect  was  solid  and  comprehensive.  The 
natural  ardor  of  his  temperament  was  subdued  by  a  judg 
ment  of  singular  accuracy  and  prudence.  His  unaffected 
piety  showed  itself  alike  on  public  and  on  private  occa 
sions  :  when  he  drew  his  sword  at  Cambridge :  when  he 
sheathed  it  at  Annapolis :  when  he  knelt  alone  in  the 
snowy  solitudes  of  Valley  Forge. 

"And,  indeed,  all  the  strength  of  his  intellect,  and  all 
the  resources  of  his  character,  were  needed  for  the  task 
he  had  undertaken.  For  he  had  undertaken  to  confront 
the  finest  infantry  of  Europe  with  an  army  of  tradesmen 
and  farmers — half  clad,  half  fed,  and  wholly  undisciplined. 
In  the  ranks,  the  spirit  of  patriotic  ardor  was  but  too 
often  allied  with  the  spirit  of  turbulent  freedom.  At  the 
council  board,  there  were  officers  to  whom  the  precedence 
of  a  colleague  was  more  galling  than  the  tyranny  of  the 
common  oppressor.  He  had  to  deal  with  deliberative 
bodies  that  acted  when  they  should  have  debated,  and 
with  executive  bodies  that  debated  when  they  should 
have  acted ;  with  an  army  that  murmured  at  his  activity, 
and  with  a  government  that  blamed  his  inaction ;  and  he 
was  forced  to  exhibit,  to  both  government  and  army,  at 
one  time  the  reckless  courage  of  Charles  XII,  and  ai 
another  time  the  serene  patience  of  Marlborough. 

"Nor  must  his  claims  to  civic  wisdom  be  passed  un 
noticed.     His  style,  founded,  it  is  true,  on  the  turgid  mas 
terpieces  of  that  period,  was  accurate  and  comprehensiy  •» 


A    LITERARY    CURIOSITY.  125 

His  talent  for  abstract  speculation  was  not  contemptible. 
He  presided  with  commanding  wisdom  over  that  assemb 
lage  of  wise  and  ingenious  statesmen,  who  framed  a 
system  of  government  in  imitation  of  a  great  system,  in 
which  the  centrifugal  force  of  the  separate  Common 
wealths  and  the  centripetal  force  of  the  Federal  author 
ity  were  balanced  with  consummate  skill.  Nor  did  he 
exhibit  less  wisdom  when  called  on  to  put  in  motion 
the  machine  which  he  had  helped  to  frame.  He  resisted 
the  unjust  rule  of  many  men,  as  he  had  resis-ted  the 
unjust  rule  of  one  man ;  and  saw  with  prophetic  eye  the 
issues  of  that  insane  freedom  that  ended  in  the  '  carmag 
nole  '  and  the  '  guillotine.'  Nor  was  the  calm  splendor  of 
his  setting  unworthy  of  the  long  day  of  glory.  He  beat 
his  spear  into  a  pruning  hook ;  and  planted  choice  trees, 
and  reared  rare  breeds  of  animals  with  the  same  con 
scientious  energy,  with  which  he  had  ruled  armies  and 
governed  cabinets. 

"And  yet,  the  truth  is  that  characters  of  such  perfec 
tion  excite  neither  the  just,  sympathy  nor  the  just  admir 
ation  of  the  great  mass  of  mankind.  The  very  foibles  of 
irregular  greatness  are  a  bond  of  sympathy  and  a  source 
of  interest.  Most  readers  will  turn  away  from  a  ruler 
who  was  never  unjust,  and  from  a  general  who  never 
swore,  to  follow  the  amiable  amours  of  Henry  IV,  or 
the  picturesque  passion  of  Hildebrand.  So,  also,  do  the 
defects  of  imperfect  natures  serve  to  render,  by  the  force 
of  contrast,  their  merits  more  striking.  The  eloquence 


126  A   LITERARY    CURIOSITY. 

of  Tully  stands  out  in  flaming  characters  against  the 
dark  background  of  that  timorous  nature  ;  and  the  glance 
of  Bacon,  the  philosopher,  seems  more  comprehensive  when 
we  compare  it  with  the  glance  of  Bacon,  the  venal  fudge, 
owered  obliquely  on  a  bribe.  The  mental  eye  is  misled, 
as  the  physical  eye  is  misled  by  the  ruins  of  Palmyra  01 
the  Cathedral  of  Cologne.  The  imagination  outstrips  the 
reality,  and  bestows  an  unmerited  grandeur  on  the  restored 
temple  and  the  completed  church.  But  the  harmonious 
adjustment  of  the  mental  and  moral  faculties  of  Wash 
ington,  prevent  us,  at  the  first  glance,  from  duly  estimat 
ing  the  extent  of  those  faculties.  We  are  like  the 
traveller  who  stands  for  the  first  time  in  that  splendid 
structure  which  the  genius  of  Michael  Angelo  has  reared 
for  the  Catholic  hierarchy.  He  cannot  at  once  justly  esti 
mate  the  length  of  that  endless  nave,  or  the  expanse  of 
that  awful  dome.  And  not  until  he  discovers,  by  re 
peated  observation,  that  the  baldaquin  which  covers  the 
altar  is  as  lofty  as  a  palace,  and  that  the  cupids  that  flit 
about  the  door  are  as  big  as  giants,  will  he  feel  assured 
that  he  treads  the  floor  of  the  largest  building  on  the 
earth." 

THE  CHARACTER  OF  FRANKLIN. 

"  The  new  ambassador  was  Benjamin  Franklin,  one  of 
the  foremost  citizens  of  the  young  Republic,  and  one  of 
the  foremost  citizens  of  the  older  republic  of  science.  He 
was  of  humble  origin.  Both  in  Boston,  the  place  of  his 


A   LITERAEY    CURIOSITY.  127 

birth,  and  ill  Philadelphia,  the  place  of  his  adoption, 
he  had  wrought  at  that  art,  'preservative  of  all  arts,'  of 
which  the  followers,  like  ships  that  bear  spices  and  odora 
from  the  East,  retain  something  of  the  precious  cargoes 
they  are  employed  to  distribute.  The  clearness  of  his  in 
tellect  was  equaled  by  the  clearness  of  his  perceptions. 
Under  the  name  of  Poor  Richard,  and  through  the 
humble  medium  of  an  'Almanac,'  he  put  forth  a  system 
of  homely  ethics,  in  which  the  virtues  of  temperance, 
probity,  and  industry  were  explained  and  commended  in 
aphorisms  of  ingenious  terseness.  Nor  did  he  fail  to 
practice  what  he  preached.  He  was  speedily  honored 
with  offices  of  trust,  both  from  the  Colonies  and  the 
Crown.  And  when  differences,  that  sprang  partly  from 
criminal  interference  and  partly  from  criminal  neglect, 
arose  between  the  two  countries,  he  exerted  himself 
strenuously,  first  to  prevent,  and  then  to  remove  those 
differences.  The  hour  for  reconciliation  passed  away : 
and  he  now  stood  up  for  war  with  the  same  placid  courage 
with  which  he  had  stood  out  for  peace.  He  was  one  of 
the  Committee  that  drafted  the  great  Declaration.  He 
was  now  sent  to  represent  the  good  cause  at  the  Court  of 
France,  and  at  the  bar  of  European  opinion.  An  extra 
ordinary  reception  awaited  him.  He  was  widely  and 
justly  known  as  an  eminent  man  of  science — as  the  Co 
lumbus  of  electrical  discovery.  The  French  nation  is, 
beyond  all  other  nations,  fond  of  striking  effect  and 
picturesque  contrast.  And  nothing  could  be  more  stri- 


128  A    LITERARY   CURIOSITY. 

king  or  picturesque  than  the  spectacle  now  presented.  A 
Quaker  diplomatist  was  about  to  appear  in  the  most 
artificial  of  courts :  a  new  Archimedes  was  to  come  from 
the  land  of  the  Natchez  and  the  Mohawk :  the  legate  of 
the  latest  republic  was  to  recall  the  image  of  antique 
wisdom  and  of  antique  virtue — of  the  Grecian  Solon  and 
the  Roman  Regul-us.  Haughty  courtiers  bent  in  emotion 
before  him :  brilliant  beauties  struggled  for  a  kiss ;  sculp 
tors  and  painters  pursued  him  with  merciless  assiduity ; 
the  Academy  rang  with  applause  when  Target's  adulatory 
Latin  described  the  sage  as  one  '  who  had  wrested  the 
thunder  from  heaven  and  the  sceptre  from  tyrants:'  and 
upon  a  ship  of  war,  that  was  sent  on  its  mission  of  death 
and  destruction  under  the  desperate  Paul  Jones,  was 
bestowed,  with  pardonable  inconsistency,  the  name  of 
'Poor  Richard.' 

"The  chief  glory  of  Franklin  lies  in  this — that  he  was 
the  greatest  of  the  pupils  of  Bacon.  And,  indeed,  ho 
wras  such  a  pupil  as  Bacon  would  have  delighted  to  honor. 
To  both  pupil  and  master,  Philosophy  was  not  the  mystic 
goddess  of  Plato,  or  the  impracticable  vixen  of  the  school 
men.  She  was  an  angel  of  beneficence  and  a  minister  of 
mercy ;  an  Elizabeth  Fry  or  Florence  Nightingale.  Her 
mission  was  to  relieve  human  suffering  and  to  advance 
man's  estate.  And,  in  truth,  Franklin's  long  and  suc 
cessful  career  was  a  triumphant  application  of  these 
principles.  No  sooner  had  the  electric  spark  glided  down 
the  kite-string  than  the  lightning-rod  was  invented  for  its 


A   LITERARY    CURIOSITY.  129 

innocuous  descent.  The  maxims  of  Poor  Richard  were 
devised  not  only  for  the  household  of  the  Quaker 
mechanic  and  the  dealings  of  the  Quaker  tradesman,  but 
for  the  government  of  States  and  the  intercourse  of  na 
tions.  Even  the  barren  tactics  of  chess  were  made  to 
furnish  lessons  for  the  higher  warfare  of  life.  Nor  did  his 
philosophy  fail  to  bear  her  fruits  to  the  philosopher 
himself.  The  virtues  of  self-respect  and  self-reliance  that 
walked  by  his  side,  when  he  entered  Philadelphia  with  a 
loaf  of  bread  under  his  arm,  did  not  desert  him  when  he 
listened,  amid  the  frowns  of  hostile  statesmen,  to  the 
pitiless  sarcasm  of  Wedderburne ;  nor  when  he  stood,  the 
centre  of  universal  homage,  in  the  brilliant  court  of  Louis. 
"  Zealows  theologians  have  attacked  the  orthodoxy  of 
his  creed ;  casuists  have  cavilled  at  the  imperfection  of 
his  ethics.  But  he  was  doubtless  a  good  man ;  he  was 
surely  a  great  man.  And  he  richly  deserves  the  title  of 
'  the  most  useful  of  the  children  of  men  '• — a  title  which 
Franklin  himself  would  have  prized  beyond  all  the  gifts 
of  fortune  and  all  the  laurels  of  fame." 


XIX. 


ISettoeeu  tije  ?$ate  anft  tije 
on  tije  Hittle  i^eat|)  fog 

FKOM  THE  LOW  GERMAN  OF  SCHRODER. 


HIS  story  is  a  tough  one  to  tell,  youngsters,,  but 
true  it  is  for  all  that  !  for  my  grandfather,  from 
whom  I  have  it,  used  always  to  say,  when  he  told  it  : 
"True  must  it  be,  my  son,  otherwise  one  could  not  tell  it 
so  at  all!"  And  this  is  the  way  the  story  ran:  — 

'Twas  on  a  pleasant  Sunday  morning,  toward  harvest 
time,  just  as  the  buckwheat  blossomed.  The  sun  had 
gone  brightly  up  into  the  heaven  ;  the  morning  wind 
swept  warm  over  the  stubble  ;  the  larks  sang  in  the  air  ; 
the  bees  hummed  in  the  buckwheat  ;  the  good  folk  went  in 
Sunday  gear  to  church,  and  all  creatures  were  happy,  and 
the  hedgehog  also. 

The  hedgehog  stood  before  his  door  with  his  arms 
folded,  peeped  out  into  the  morning  air,  and  chirruped  a 
little  song  to  himself,  just  as  good  and  just  as  bad  as  a 
hedgehog  is  wont  to  sing  on  a  pleasant  Sunday  morning. 
And'  as  he  was  singing  to  himself,  in  a  cheery  little  voice, 


*  See  Preface. 


131 

all  at  once  it  came  into  his  head  he  might  just  as  well, 
while  his  wife  was  washing  and  dressing  the  children, 
take  a  little  walk  into  the  field  to  see  how  his  turnips  were 
standing.  Now  the  turnips  were  close  to  his  house,  and 
he  used  to  eat  them  with  his  family,  so  that  he  looked 
upon  them  as  his  own.  No  sooner  said  than  done.  The 
hedgehog  shut  the  house-door  to  after  him,  and  took  his 
way  to  the  field.  He  had  not  gone  very  far  from  the 
house,  and  was  about  to  turn,  just  by  the  thorn  bush  which 
stands  there  before  the  field,  near  the  turnip  patch,  when 
he  met  the  hare,  who  had  gone  out  on  a  similar  business, 
namely,  to  look  after  his  cabbages.  When  the  hedgehog 
caught  sight  of  the  hare,  he  bid  him  a  friendly  ' '  good 
morning ! "  But  the  hare,  who,  in  his  own  way,  was  a 
mighty  fine  gentleman,  and  held  his  head  very  high, 
answered  nothing  to  the  hedgehog's  greeting,  but  said  to 
the  hedgehog,  putting  on  thereby  a  most  scornful  mien : 

"  How  happens  it,  then,  that  thou  art  strolling  about 
here  in  the  field  so  early  in  the  morning  ?" 

"I'm  taking  a  walk,"  said  the  hedgehog. 

"  Taking  a  walk  ?"  laughed  the  hare,  "  methinks  thou 
mightest  use  those  legs  of  thine  for  better  things." 

This  answer  vexed  the  hedgehog  hugely,  for  he  could 
stand  almost  anything,  but  his  legs  he  did  not  like  to 
have  spoken  about,  because  they  were  crooked  by  nature. 

"Thou  thinkest,  perhaps,"  said  the  hedgehog  to  the 
hare,  "  thou  could'st  do  more  with  thine  own  legs  1" 

"That's  what  I  do  think,"  said  the  hare. 


132  THE   RACE   BETWEEN 

"That  depends  upon  the  trial,"  quoth  the  hedgehog. 
*'  I  bet  that  if  we  run  a  race  together,  I  beat  thee  hollow !" 

"That's  quite  laughable,  thou  with  thy  crooked  legs," 
said  the  hare,  "but  I've  nothing  against  it  if  thou  art  so 
bent  upon  it.  What's  the  bet  ?" 

"A  golden  louis  d'or  and  a  bottle  of  brandy!  "  said  the 
hedgehog. 

"  Done,"  said  the  hare,  "fall  in,  and  then  it  may  come 
off  at  once." 

' '  Nay,  there's  no  such  hurry, "  said  the  hedgehog,  ' '  I'm 
still  quite  hungry ;  I'll  go  home  and  get  a  bit  of  breakfast 
first ;  within  half  an  hour  I'll  be  here  again  on  the  spot." 

With  tliis  the  hedgehog  went  his  way,  for  the  hare  was 
also  content. 

On  the  way  the  hedgehog  thought  to  himself: 

"The  hare  trusts  to  his  long  legs,  but  I'll  fetch  him 
for  all  that ;  he's  a  fine  gentleman  to  be  sure,  but  still 
he's  only  a  stupid  fellow,  and  pay  he  shall  1 " 

Now  when  the  hedgehog  came  to  his  house,  he  said  to 
his  wife:  "Wife,  dress  thyself  in  my  gear,  quickly,  thou 
uiust  go  with  me  to  the  field." 

"What's  all  this  about?"  said  his  wife. 

"  I've  bet  the  hare  a  golden  louis  d'or  and  a  bottle  of 
brandy  that  I  beat  him  in  a  race,  aud  thou  must  be  by." 

"O  my  husband!"  began  the  hedgehog's  wife  to 
cry,  "art  thou  foolish  ?  hast  thou  then  quite  lost  thine 
understanding  ?  How  canst  thou  wish  to  run  a  race  with 
the  hare  ?" 


THE   HARE    AND    THE   HEDGEHOG. 

"Hold  thy  mouth,  wife,"  said  the  hedgehog,  "that's 
my  business ;  don't  meddle  with  men's  affairs.  March  . 
dress  thyself  in  my  clothes,  and  then  come  along." 

What  could  the  hedgehog's  wife  do  ?  She  had  to  follow 
whether  she  would  or  no.  When  they  were  on  the  way 
together,  the  hedgehog  said  to  his  wife :  ' '  Now  listen  to 
what  I  have  to  say.  See'st  thou,  on  the  long  acre 
yonder  will  we  run  our  races.  The  hare  runs  in  one 
furrow  and  I  in  another,  and  we  begin  to  run  from  up 
there.  Now  thou  hast  nothing  else  to  do  than  to  take 
thy  place  here  in  the  furrow,  and  when  the  hare  conies 
up  on  the  other  side  thou  must  call  out  to  him :  ' '  I'm  here 
already!"  With  this  they  had  reached  the  field;  the 
hedgehog  showed  his  wife  her  place  and  went  up  the 
furrow.  When  he  got  to  the  upper  end  the  hare  was 
already  there. 

" Can  we  start?"  said  the  hare. 
'  Yes,  indeed  !"  said  the  hedgehog. 

"  To  it  then  1"  and  with  that  each  placed  himself  in  his 
furrow,  and  the  hare  counted  one,  two,  three !  and  away 
he  went  like  a  storm  wind  down  the  field.  But  the 
hedgehog  ran  about  three  steps,  and  then  ducked  down 
in  the  furrow  and  sat  still. 

When  the  hare,  on  the  full  bound,  came  to  the  lower 
end  of  the  field,  the  hedgehog's  wife  called  out  to  him, 
"I'm  here  alre.idy!"  The  hare  started  and  wondered 
hot  a  little ;  he  thought  not  otherwise  than  that  it  was  the 
hedgehog  liimaelf  that  ran  out  to  meet  Jiim  ;  for,  as  every 


134  THE   RACE   BETWEEN 

one  knows,  the  hedgehog's  wife  looks  just  like  her  hus 
band. 

But  the  hare  thought :  there's  something  wrong  about 
all  this  1  Another  race  !  At  it  again  !  And  away  he 
went  again  like  a  storm  wind,  so  that  his  cars  lay  flat  on 
his  head.  But  the  hedgehog's  wife  staid  quietly  in  her 
place.  When  the  hare  came  to  the  upper  end  the  hedge 
hog  called  out  to  him,  "I'm  here  already."  But  the 
hare,  beside  himself  with  rage,  cried  :  ' '  Another  race !  at 
it  again!" 

"I'm  quite  willing,"  answered  the  hedgehog,  "just  as 
often  as  thou  likest." 

So  the  hare  ran  three  and  seventy  times,  and  the  hedge 
hog  held  out  to  the  very  end  with  him.  Every  time  the 
hare  came  either  below  or  above,  the  hedgehog"  or  his  wife 
said  "I'm  here  already !" 

But  the  four  and  seventieth  time  the  hare  came  no 
more  to  the  end.  In  the  middle  of  the  Held  he  fell  to  the 
earth  and  lay  dead  upon  the  spot. 

So  the  hedgehog  took  the  louis  d'or  and  the  bottle  of 
brandy  he  had  won,  called  his  wife  out  of  the  furrow,  and 
both  went  home  together :  and  if  they  have  not  died, 
they  are  living  still.  So  happened  it  that  on  the  Buxte- 
hude  heath  the  hedgehog  ran  the  hare  to  death,  and  since 
that  time  no  hare  has  ever  dreamed  of  running  a  race 
with  a  Buxtelmde  hedgehog. 

But  the  moral  of  this  story  is,  first ;  that  no  one,  how 
ever  high  and  mighty  he  may  think  himself,  shall  let  it 


THE  HARE  AND  THE  HEDGEHOG.         135 

happen  to  him  to  make  merry  over  an  humble  man,  even 
if  he  be  a  hedgehog ;  and  secondly,  that  it  is  advisable, 
when  one  marries,  that  he  take  a  wife  out  of  his  own 
condition,  and  who  looks  just  like  himself.  He,  therefore, 
that  is  a  hedgehog,  must  look  to  it  that  his  wife  is  also  a 
hedgehog  ;  and  so  forth. 


XX. 


te  tfje  OTause  of  Sijtmtrer? 


"First,  let  me  talk  with  this  philosopher.     What  is  the  cause  of 
thunder  T—King  Lear,  Act  III,  Scene  Fifth. 


SERIES  of  observations,  and  a  single  experiment, 
would  throw  some  light  upon  this  important  ques 
tion.  Take,  for  instance,  a  summer  afternoon  when  the 
air  is  close  and  sultry,  and  the  atmosphere  rarefied,  when 
respiration  is  laborious,  and  no  wind  stirring  among  the 
leaves.  But,  on  the  distant  horizon,  there  are  indications 
of  vapor ;  not  rolling  clouds,  but  thin  exhalations  from 
the  earth,  drawn  up  by  the  heat  of  the  sun.  Suddenly 
this  humid  veil  is  illuminated  by  flashes,  and  people  'call 
it  heat  lightning,  summer  lightning,  sheet  lightning.  I 
wish  particularly  to  direct  attention  to  the  fact,  that  this 
exhibition  of  electricity  is  not  often  accompanied  with 
other  phenomena  peculiar  to  thunder  storms.  No  rain 
follows  the  flash,  nor  is  any  report  heard  ;  and,  further 
more,  these  illuminated  vapors  are  always  muck  elevated. 
It  is  idle  to  say  that  on  account  of  distance  from  the 
earth  the  report  is  not  audible ;  for  few  persons,  familiar 
with  mountain  heights,  can  fail  to  remember  that  some 


WHAT   IS    THE   CAUSE   OF   THUNDER  ?          137 

time  or  other  they  were  in  the  midst  of  such  an  atmos 
phere,  when  the  lightning  appeared  to  surround  them, 
apparently  witliin  a  few  feet  of  them,  flashing  on  every 
side,  yet  without  rain  or  detonation.  In  this  condition 
the  atmosphere  is  said  to  be  highly  charged  with  electric 
ity.  But  surely  we  cannot  accept  this  as  equivalent  to 
the  same  meaning  applied  to  a  Leyden  jar,  fresh  from 
contact  with  the  knob  of  the  electric  machine.  Indeed, 
is  not  the  contrary  very  possible  ?  Would  not  the  data 
show  that,  in  such  a  condition  the  atmosphere,  instead 
of  being  highly  charged,  had  not  its  usual  percentage  of 
electric  stimulus?  Experiments  with  the  electrometer 
might  prove  this  supposition  to  be  correct,  and,  on  the 
other  hand,  they  might  prove  it  to  be  incorrect.  But  one 
thing  cannot  be  disproved  nor  denied — that  air,  highly 
rarefied  by  heat,  and  humid,  is  air,  plus  water  ;  and  also 
that  in  this  condition  air  is  susceptible  of  being  silently 
illuminated  by  electricity.  This  point  being  settled,  we 
will  proceed  to  the  next — which  is,  "  What  is  the  cause 
of  Thunder?" 

The  learned,  down  to  the  latest  moment  of  going  to 
press,  have  advanced  no  further  than  this,  that  "  thunder 
is  a  noise  produced  by  THE  EXPLOSION  OF  LIGHTNING,  or 
by  the  passage  of  lightning  from  one  cloud  to  another  !  or 
from  a  cloud  to  the  ground."  Whoever  has  read  the  cel 
ebrated  treatise  of  John  Conrad  Francis  de  Hatzfield 
upon  the  subject,  will  iind  a  far  more  plausible  theory 
advanced  by  that  sagacious  philosopher,  and  quite  as 


138  WHAT    IS    THE    CAUSE    OF    THUNDER? 

amusing  as  the  modern  idea,  that  the  sound  of  thunder  ia 
analogous  to  the  snap  produced  by  holding  the  knuckle 
of  one's  forefinger  to  the  brass  bulb  of  an  electrical 
machine ! — an  explanation  that  has  never  satisfied  any 
reasonable  mind.  Let  us  see  if  there  be  not  a  rational 
solution  of  the  mystery. 

The  phenomena  of  thunder  storms  are:  first,  heavy 
clouds ;  then  lightning ;  then  the  report,  and  then  a 
fall  of  rain  !  Now,  let  us  trace  the  consequence  to  its 
source.  The  rain  is  produced  by  two  causes,  either  sud 
den  condensation  of  watery  vapors  or  clouds,  by  colder 
temperature,  or  the  formation  of  water  by  the  action 
of  the  electric  fluid.  The  first  explains  itself;  the  latter 
is  linked  with  the  subject  of  this  paper.  Let  us,  there 
fore,  confine  ourselves  to  that  rain  only  which  follows 
the  thunder.  Rain  water  is  composed  of  two  elements, 
oxygen  and  hydrogen.  Hydrogen  is  a  combustible  gas, 
and  oxygen  supports  combustion.  A  stream  of  pure 
hydrogen,  ejected  from  a  pipe  into  pure  oxygen,  burns 
brightly  in  perfect  silence.  But,  mixed  with  oxygen,  it 
explodes  upon  taking  fire ;  just  as  a  young  man,  having  his 
own  fortune  to  make,  goes  quietly  to  work  until  he  gets 
a  partner  with  a  tremendous  capital.  The  relative  aspects 
of  silent  lightning  and  noisy  lightning  may  be  compared 
by  a  simple  apparatus  sold  at  any  chemists ;  it  is  a  tin 
lamp  filled  with  inflammatory  gas.  So  long  as  the  gas  is 
allowed  to  burn  in  small  quantities  it  is  taciturn,  but,  ex 
posed  to  a  larger  mixture  of  oxygen,  it  goes  off  with  a 


WHAT   IS    THE    CAUSE    OF   THUNDER?          139 

loud  report.  This  is  a  lamp  that  any  spark  of  electricity 
can  ignite.  And  then  again  the  product  of  the  flame  is 
water!  The  union  of  hydrogen  and  oxygen  is  water. 
What  meteoric  phenomenon  is  so  simple  as  this,  that 
thunder  is  caused  by  the  electric  spark  uniting  with  rare 
fied  air  plus  oxygen,  and  rarefied  vapor  plus  hydrogen, 
detonating,  recompounding,  and  forming  rain! 


XXI. 

$3teafcfast* 


LE  Prince  de  Talleyrand  gave  a  dsjtuner  ft  la 
fourchette  at  wliich  the  illustrious  Brillat  Sa- 
varin  was  a  guest.  This  great  philosopher  gives  us  the 
bill  of  fare,  interspersed  with  his  own  reflections  and 
directions,  which  I  have  translated  for  the  edification  of 
all  gourmets.  Yours,  P.  D. 

1st.  Guinea  hen's  eggs  fried  'in  quail's  fat,  spread  with 
a  coulis  (gravy)  of  ecrevisse  (a  species  of  crawfish),  very 
warm,  each  egg  being  a  single  morsel,  and  taken  at  a 
mouthful,  after  having  been  well  turned  in  the  coulis. 

Eat  pianissimo. 

After  each  egg  drink  two  fingers  of  old  Madeira.  This 
wine  to  be  drunk  with  reflection.  (Recueillement). 

2d.  Lake  Trout  with  Montpelier  butter,  iced  (butter 
made  with  aromatic  herbs).  Roll  each  morsel  nicely  and 
perfectly  in  this  high-flavored  seasoning. 

Eat  allegro. 

Drink  two  glasses  of  fine  Sauterne  or  Latour  Blanche. 
To  be  drunk  contemplatively. 

*  Sea  Preface. 


A    FEENCH    BREA.KFAST.  141 

3d.  Fillets  of  the  breast  of  Grouse,  with  white  truffles 
of  Piemant — raw,  in  slices. 

Place  each  fillet  between  two  layers  of  truffles,  and  let 
them  soak  well  in  gravy  d  la  perigueux,  made  of  black 
truffles  served  apart. 

Eat  forte,  on  account  of  the  white  truffles  being  raw. 

Drink  two  glasses  of  Chateau  Margaux ;  the  beautiful 
flavor  of  this  wine  will  be  most  apparent  after  drinking. 

4th.  Boasted  Rail  on  a  Crust,  a  la  Sardanapale  ;  the 
legs  and  side-bones  to  be  eaten  only ;  the  leg  not  to  be 
cut  in  two ;  take  it  between  the  thumb  and  fingers ;  salt 
it  lightly ;  put  the  thigh  part  between  the  teeth  and  chew 
it  all,  meat  and  bone. 

Eat  largo  and  fortissimo,  at  the  same  time  take  a  cut 
of  the  hot  crust,  prepared  with  a  condiment  of  liver  and 
brain  of  woodcock,  goose  liver  of  Strasbourg,  marrow 
of  red  deer,  and  pounded  anchovies,  highly  spiced. 

Drink  two  glasses  of  Clos  Vougeot ;  pour  out  this  wine 
with  emotion,  and  drink  with  a  religious  sentiment. 

5th.  Morilles  (a  species  of  large  and  exquisite  mush 
rooms),  with  fine  herbs  and  essence  of  ham ;  let  these 
divine  cryptogamas  melt  in  the  mouth. 

Eat  pianissimo, 

Drink  a  glass  of  Cote  Rotie,  or  a  glass  of  very  old 
Johannesberger.  No  recommendation  as  to  the  way  of 
drinking  this  wine  (the  Cote  Rotie) ;  it  is  commanding 
and  self-imposing;  as  to  the  Johannesberger,  treat  it 
like  a  venerable  patriarch. 


142  A    FRENCH    BKEAKFAST. 

6th.  Bouchees  a  la  Duchesse,  with  pine-apple  jelly. 

Eat  amoroso. 

Drink  two  or  three  glasses  of  Champagne,  Sillery  Sec, 
Verzeney,  non  Mousseux  (still)  iced  to  SIIOAV. 

7th.  Brie  Cheese,  or  Estanville  (near  Meaux). 

Drink  one  glass  of  Port. 

Then,  if  you  please,  an  excellent  cigar  (demi  regalia 
de  Cabanas),  after  which  one  small  glass  of  Cui^ao,  and 
a  siesta,  during  which  you  will  dream  of  the  beauties  of 
the  dinner  to  come. 

Each  course  of  such  a  breakfast  must  be  served  only 
at  the  time  the  cook  is  ready ;  the  guest  must  wait,  not 
the  cook,  so  that  the  dishes  may  be  presented  in  perfect 
order 


XXII. 

3$ints  for  ISpicurcan 


HOEVER  has  been  in  Havana  must  needs  recol 
lect  the  little  brazier,  with  its  ball  of  white 
ashes,  beneath  which  a  live  hard-wood  coal,  called  a 
"  candela"  glows  all  day  for  the  accommodation  of 
smokers  in  every  house.  This  we  thought  once  a  dainty 
device.  But  our  friend,  Master  Karl,  has  given  us  some 
new,  delicate,  and  fragrant  suggestions  :  — 

"  It  is  an  established  canon  that  the  purest  and  most 
elevated  tastes  or  flavors  are  unmixed  —  simple.  I  re 
spectfully  submit  that  in  smoking  tobacco,  this  rule  by 
no  means  holds  good. 

"  And  here  I  might  cite  the  learned  Wimtruphius, 
who  in  his  '  Epigrammata  '  puns  so  learnedly  on  Bac 
chus  and  To-Bacco,  and  their  mutual  flavoring  influence. 
This  I  spare  you.  Likewise  the  lucubrations  of  Schiop- 
plus  DunderJtedius,  who  in  speaking  most  horrifically, 
De  odore  fetida  tobacci,  distinctly  analyzes  it  into  two 
smells  —  one  infernal,  the  other  diabolical.  This  spared 
also  (by  request). 

*  See  Preface. 


144  DAINTY   HINTS   FOK 

"  But  I  mean  simply  to  say  that  a  point  may  be  given 
to  a  good  cigar  by  lighting  it  from  wood  —  not  from  the 
timber  of  a  lucifer  match,  but  from  a  smouldering,  smok 
ing  fragment  of  a  log,  either  hickory,  oak,  or  even  pine. 
And  note  ye,  good  fellows  all,  that  the  earlier  in  the 
season  this  is  done,  the  more  delicate  is  the  gout ;  yea, 
this  rule  holds  so  far  good,  that  on  the  first  crisp  evenings 
in  September,  no  musk-rose  or  violet  that  is  —  nay,  no 
vitivert  —  nay,  no  ess  bouquet  —  nay,  no  florimel  —  nay, 
no  eau  de  cypre — nay,  no  hediosmya  —  nay,  no  daintily- 
ambered  aqua  colonice  or  any  Paradisaical  sweets  that 
be,  can  surpass  the  odorat  of  the  first  whiff  of  a  wood- 
lighted  cigar. 

"Yea,  and  more.  If  you  smoke  light,  and  mild,  and 
dry,  preferring  Latike'a  and  Knaster  to  fine-cut,  turnback, 
and  chopped  cavendish,  there  is  a  class  of  perfumes  — 
that  I  ween,  which  Piesse  places  as  the  third  note  in  the 
gamut  of  good  smells  —  a  certain  spicy  oriental  class, 
such  as  cascarrilla,  or  a  faint  admixture  of  santal,  which 
perfumes  the  axe  which  lays  it  low,  which  in  no  wise  de 
tracts  from  piping  joys.  And  I  tell  you  in  all  truth, 
that  Virginia  leaf,  with  these  sweet  delights,  and  with 
iumach  or  kinni  kinnick  therein  gently  mingled,  spreads 
around  such  a  pastilled,  ecclesiastical  cathedral  air, 
blended  with  dim  souvenirs  of  the  rue  Breda,  that  he 
who  smokes  thereof  is  oftentimes  in  tone  to  sing  the 
high  song  of  King  Solomon,  or  the  lyrics  of  the  Persian 
land,  wherein  love  and  devotion  are  so  curiously  en- 


EPICUREAN    SMOKERS.  145 

twined,  that  no  sensation  that  is,  can  be  compared 
thereto,  unless  it  be  the  kissing  of  your  sweetheart 
during  sermon-time  under  thti  lee  of  a  high-backed  old- 
fashioned  pew. 

41  •  Ita  dixit  ille  Rector 

Er  wollt's  nicht  anders  han, 
Vale  semper  bone  Lector, 
Lug  du  und  stoss  dick  dran 
Gut  Gesell  iat  Rinckman. '" 


xxm. 
<Ef)ampagne  l&noton  to  tije  Ewtente?* 

NEW  YORK,  July  1st,  1867. 

[HE  author  of  the  following  two  communications,  written 
seven -years  ago,  in  now  revising  them,  finds  melancholy 
thoughts  taking  the  place  of  the  gay  and  festive  feelings  in  which  they 
were  originally  composed.  In  those  seven  years  of  civil  strife  which 
brought  sorrow  to  the  hearts  of  thousands,  whose  loved  ones,  whose 
"beautiful  and  brave,"  fell  on  the  battle-field,  death  did  not  spare 
some  of  the  best  and  noblest  of  those  who  were  sportively  mentioned 
in  these  papers. 

Dr.  Francis  has  passed  away — Dr.  Francis,  the  jovial,  the  kind- 
hearted,  the  man  of  boundless  curiosity  and  unerring  memory,  of 
large  and  sound  acquirements,  the  genuine  and  enthusiastic  New 
Yorker,  who  has  preserved  the  choicest  memorials  of  the  men  of  the 
last  generation  in  that  city  which  he  himself  so  long  gladdened  and 
instructed. 

President  Felton,  of  Harvard  University,  is  no  more.  The  great,  the 
genial,  the  liberal,  the  wise,  the  accomplished  scholar,  one  of  whose 
Homeric  criticisms  is  specially  combated  in  these  papers,  who  is  there 
described  as  a  person  of  the  highest  scholarship,  armed  with  the 
authority,  and  clothed  with  the  dignity  of  Jupiter,  he,  too,  was  soon 
suddenly  snatched  away  from  the  station  he  adorned,  and  the  studies 
which  he  loved. 

•  See  Preface. 


WAS    CHAMPAGNE   KNOWN,  ETC.  147 

New  York  still  mourns  the  death  of  one  of  her  most  eminent  sur 
geons,  Dr.  John  Watson. 

The  memory  of  all  men  of  professional  excellence,  however  high 
it  may  have  been,  is  proverbially  brief. 

"  Feeble  tradition  is  their  memory's  guard." 

Thus  the  fame  of  the  distinguished  skill  of  Watson  must  soon  fade 
away,  like  that  of  Kissam,  of  Wright,  of  Post,  and  even  within 
a  few  3rears,  that  of  Mott.  But  the  memory  of  Dr.  Watson  will 
be  preserved  by  his  volume  on  "The  Medical  Profession  in  Ancient 
Times,"  a  book  equally  agreeable  and  impressive,  very  learned,  yet 
very  original.  That  memory  will  also  be  preserved  and  cherished 
among  a  limited  but  very  select  class  of  students,  in  law,  in  medicine, 
and  in  intellectual  science,  by  his  elaborate,  acute  and  exhaustive 
printed  opinions  as  a  medical  expert  in  the  great  Paisk  will  case. 

To  those  honored  names  must  I  add  that  of  Thackeray.  He  was  one 
well  known  familiarly  in  our  American  cities,  and  there  are  still 
hundreds  who  quote  his  criticisms  on  our  "  Big  Bursts  of  Oysters,"  as 
well  as  on  our  old  Madeira,  so  plentiful  and  so  prized  but  twenty 
years  ago,  while  the  portraits  of  Col.  Newcome,  of  Becky  Sharpe, 
and  many  more,  remain,  life-like  in  the  minds  of  thousands. 

But  such  recollections  will  touch  and  sadden  only  some  few  of  my 
older  readers.  The  passages  relating  to  the  lamented  dead  have  been 
therefore  left  unaltered,  in  the  wish  to  give  to  such  of  any  younger 
generation  who  may  casually  look  into  this  book,  a  passing  glance  at 
the  pursuits  and  opinions  of  some  of  tho  noted  literary  men  among 
us  in  1860. 


August  7,  1866. 


MY  DEARCOZZENS: — I  had  hoped  to  spend  my  vacation 
in  quiet  idleness,  with  a  rigorous  and  religious  abstinence 


148  WAS    CHAMPAGNE 

from  pen  and  ink.  But  I  cannot  refuse  to  comply  with 
the  request  you  urge  so  eloquently,  placing  your  claim  to 
my  assistance  not  only  on  the  ground  of  old  friendship, 
but  also  as  involving  important  objects,  literary  and  sci 
entific,  as  well  as  social  and  commercial ;  all  of  them  (to 
repeat  your  phrase  and  Bacon's),  "coming  home  to  the 
business  and  bosoms  of  men." 

You  desire  me  to  inform  you,  after  careful  examination 
of  all  the  authorities,  u  whether  the  ancient  Greeks  or 
Romans,  during  the  classic  ages,  were  acquainted  with 
champagne." 

In  such  an  inquiry,  at  once  scientific  and  classical,  it 
is  all-important  that  the  question  should  be  stated  with 
logical  precision.  Bacon  himself  has  taught  us  that  the 
judicious  statement  of  the  question  (prudens  interrogatio) 
is  one  half  the  way  to  scientific  discovery. 

Now,  I  may  safely  presume  that  you  do  not  mean  to 
ask  whether  the  territory  of  Champagne  was  known  to  the 
ancients.  Any  Freshman  can  tell  you  that  the  fair  land 
on  each  side  of  the  murmuring  Marne,  and  up  the  vine- 
clad  sides  of  the  mountains,  was  part  of  ancient  Gaul, 
known  and  subject  to  the  Romans,  and  designated  as  part 
of  different  provinces  at  different  periods  of  the  Roman 
sway. 

On  this  point  and  all  relating  to  it  you  can  get  what 
ever  information  you  desire  from  Cluverius  and  D'Anville, 
or  the  Fathers  of  Trevoux.  But  this,  I  take  it,  ycu  can 
not  mean,  though  it  is  the  literal  sense  of  your  request. 


KNOWN    TO   THE    ANCIENTS?  149 

Nor,  in  my  judgment,  can  you  mean  to  ask,  whether 
the  Greeks  and  Romans  were  acquainted  with  the  wines 
of  the  growth  of  that  part  of  old  Gaul  which,  under  the 
ancient  regime  of  France,  was  called  the  province  of 
Champagne.  Of  course  the  Roman  colonists  in  Gaul 
knew  and  used  the  wines  therein  grown  and  made  ;  but 
from  the  account  given  by  the  elder  Pliny,  of  the  wines 
there  produced,  they  bore  little  resemblance  to  the 
present  wines  of  Champagne,  whether  wousseux  cremant, 
or  still.  They  are  not  named  with  any  respect  in  Pliny's 
statement  of  the  one  hundred  and  ninety  five  (195 !)  sorts 
of  wine  which  in  his  day  were  counted  fit  for  the  Roman 
market,  of  which  only  eighty  kinds  were  admitted  to  be 
"  wines  of  authority  for  good  tables" — "  quibus  auctoritas 
fuerit  mensa,"  as  he  says,  unless  I  misquote  him.  The 
art  of  wine-making  was  then  in  its  very  infancy  in  Gaul. 
Indeed,  it  was  not  until  the  days  of  the  great  and  good 
Ingulphus,  the  Seventeenth  mitred  Abbot  of  Yerzeney, 
who  was  also  Dean  of  Rheims — (I  give  that  great  man 
the  titles  by  which  he  was  known  in  the  last  forty  years 
of  his  life,  although  his  most  admirable  and  important 
inventions  and  improvements  in  the  making  and  man 
agement  of  wines  were  made  whilst  he  was  still  only 
cure  of  Verzy  on  the  mountains,  and  afterwards  Arch 
deacon  of  Ay,  in  the  low  country  along  the  Marne) — I 
say,  that  it  was  not  until  the  days  of  the  aforesaid  Ingul 
phus  (supradicti  Heverendissimi  Ingulphi  as  the  Rheiim 
Chronicle  styles  him),  that  the  wines  of  Champagne  at- 


* 

150  WAS    CHAMPAGNE 

tracted  tlie  attention  of  Royalty.  Soon  after  that  they 
became  the  constant  accompaniments,  de  rigueur,  of 
all  "good  men's  feasts."  I  write,  as  you  know,  out 
of  reach  of  my  own  library,  as  well  as  of  that  of  our 
university,  and  must  trust  altogether  to  memory.  Other 
wise  I  could  not  resist  the  temptation  of  expatiating  further 
in  the  praise  of  this  great  benefactor  of  humanity.  I 
will  only  add  that  the  great  Ingulphus  of  whom  I  speak, 
and  to  whom  we  all  owe  such  an  unpayable  debt  of  grati 
tude,  was  the  one  of  the  Rohan  family,  and  must  not  be 
confounded  with  the  three  other  very  able  and  distin 
guished  men  of  the  Latinized  name  of  Ingulphus,  or 
Ingulphius  (for  the  name  is  spelled  both  ways),  who 
figure  in  public  affairs  in  the  twelfth  and  thirteenth 
centuries. 

The  great  Ingulphus  prosecuted  his  vinous  experi 
ments  and  effected  his  discoveries  during  the  reign 
of  the  famous  Philip  Augustus ;  or  rather,  Philip 
Augustus  reigned  in  France  during  his  time,  which, 
by  a  very  noteworthy  coincidence,  was  the  very  period 
when,  according  to  the  best  Irish  antiquaries,  their  Milesian 
forefathers  discovered  and  perfected  the  manufacture  of 
whisky,  us/cy,  or  the  water,  as  it  was  called  in  the  ancient 
tongue  of  the  Emerald  Isle ;  though  in  the  cognate  dialect 
of  the  Scotch  Gaelic,  it  was  known  as  uisgee.  These 
epochs  also  corresponded  with  the  date  when  Magna 
Charta,  the  palladium  of  England's  liberty,  was  wrung  by 
the  English  from  their  reluctant  monarch.  No  sound 


KNOWN   TO   THE    ANCIENTS?  151 

philosopher  can  suppose  that  coincidences  like  these  are 
accidental.  No,  no:  — 

"There  are  more  tilings  in  heaven  and  earth,  Horatio, 
Than  are  dreamt  of  in  your  philosophy." 

But,  to  return  to  your  inquiry.  Having,  by  the  pro 
cess  of  philosophical  elimination,  excluded  much  vague 
ness  and  danger  of  error,  I  proceed  to  reduce  your  inquiry 
to  the  shape  of  the  prudent  interrogation,  the  logically 
exact  questioning,  of  the  school  of  Bacon  and  Newton. 
Your  inquiry,  then,  must  be  this.  Did  the  ancients,  in 
the  high  and  palmy  days  of  their  eloquence,  philosophy 
and  poetry,  either  in  Greece  or  Rome,  or  in  both,  know 
and  use  (and  of  course  become  fond  of)  any  effervescent 
wine  or  wines  having  the  chemical  qualities,  as  carbonic 
acid  gas,  with  the  tartarous  and  saccharine  constituents, 
the  physiological  and  dietetic  qualities,  aroma,  bouquet, 
etc.,  together  with  those  other  properties  either  belong 
ing  to  the  science  of  the  laboratory  or  to  that  of  the  table, 
which  have  been  so  beautifully  stated  by  my  good  friend 
Dr.  Miilder,  Professor  of  Dietetic  Chemistry  in  the 
University  of  Utrecht,  in  his  "Chemistry  of  Wines,"  as 
being  essential  to  the  true  wines  of  Champagne,  whether 
mousseux  or  demi-mousseux  ? 

In  this  statement  of  the  question,  you  see,  I  purposely  ex 
clude  the  mnnon-mousseux,  or  what  is  less  philosophically 
expressed  in  English  by  the  name  of  '•'•still  Champagne." 
This  I  do  because  in  the  vulgar  and  popular  use,  such  wines 


152  WAS    CHAMPAGNE 

are  not  included  under  the  term  Champagne,  although 
grown  and  made  in  that  District,  and  some  of  them,  as 
Sillery,  of  the  very  highest  merit,  gastronomic  and  dietetic, 
convivial,  social,  and  moral,  and  especially  in  those 
qualities  which  the  physiology  of  the  table  designates  as 
Oxyporian. 

Thus,  I  think  that  the  preliminary  question  is  clearly 
settled  with  an  Aristotelian  precision,  such  as  the  learned 
gentlemen  who  discuss  questions  of  Contagion  and  In 
fection  in  academies  and  conventions  would  do  well  to 
imitate.  I  then  proceed  to  the  investigation  itself.  This 
I  am  not  ashamed  to  affirm  that  I  do  with  perfect  confi 
dence  in  the  successful  result;  for  I  doit,  not  like  my 
learned  friends  just  mentioned. 

"Cajca  regens  filo  vestigia." 

Or,  as  it  is  translated  in  my  new  version  of  Virgil,  (now 
on  the  press  of  Ticknor  &  Fields) — 

"  With  stumbling  steps  along  the  dubious  maze, 
Tracing  with  half-seen  thread  the  darksome  ways." 

But  with  a  bold  arid  firm  step,  lifting  high  the  blazing 
torch  of  classic  lore,  which  pours  its  floods  of  light  forward 
in  my  path. 

The   conclusion  to  which  I  come   is  simply  that  the 
Greek  and  Roman  gentlemen  and  scholars,  in  the  high 
and  palmy  state  of  their  literature  and  art,  had  used  and 
enjoyed  wines  similar  to  the  effervescent,  foaming,  spark 
ling,  or  creaming  wines  of  Champagne. 


KNOWN   TO    THE    ANCIENTS?  153 

I  have  stated  the  precise  question,  and  the  conclusion 
to  which  my  mind  has  logically  arrived. 

It  would  be  descending  not  a  little  from  the  dignity  of 
learning  to  recapitulate  any  of  the  steps  by  which  that 
conclusion  was  attained,  and  the  various  authorities  on 
which  it  rests. 

It  is  a  wise  general  rule  never  to  give  such  reasons  for 
your  opinions.  Let  those  who  ask  your  opinion  be  satis 
fied  when  they  have  got  it.  Yet,  considering  the  great 
importance  of  the  present  inquiry,  and  the  intense  inter 
est  which  it  must  excite,  I  will  deviate  from  my  ordinary 
practice. 

Before  stating  this  evidence,  it  must  be  observed,  once 
for  all,  that  though  I  hold  that  a  sparkling  wine  similar 
to  our  best  Champagne  was  known  to  the  ancients,  it  is 
quite  as  clear  that  such  was  not  a  common  characteristic 
of  their  wines.  The  resemblance  was  only  of  some  of 
their  choice  vintages  to  those  of  our  Champagnes.  Other 
wise,  their  wines  were  commonly  still,  strong,  and  often 
thick,  like  our  "Essence  Tokay."  I  do  not  care  to 
trouble  you  with  any  learning  on  this  head.  It  would  be 
too  large  a  dose  for  the  present. 

On  all  similar  questions  as  to  Grecian  habits  and  Greek 
learning,  the  best  and  most  uni versal  authority  is  Athenaeus. 
He  is  the  most  delightful  and  instructive  author  on  mat 
ters  of  the  table  in  any  language,  being  to  Greek  literature 
a  Dr.  Kitchener  of  a  higher  order,  or  rather  his  work  is 
what  Brillat-Savarin's  "Physiologic  du  Gout"  is  in  French; 


154  WAS    CHAMPAGNE 

but  it  is  of  tar  more  value  than  Savarin's,  because,  with 
equal  sprightliness  and  familiar  knowledge  of  the  subject 
that  he  handles,  his  book  is  filled,  crammed,  stuffed, 
spiced,  larded  with  choice  extracts  from  numerous  Greek 
poets  and  dramatists,  whose  other  writings  are  all  lost. 

I  always  make  Athenseus  my  summer  travelling  com 
panion — in  the  original,  of  course  ;  and  I  prefer  reading 
him  in  Schweighauser's  last  edition,  partly  because  it  is 
the  best,  but  chiefly  because  old  Schweighauser  was  ex 
ceedingly  kind  to  me  at  Strasbourg,  more  years  ago  than 
I  care  to  tell.  But  as  I  know  that  your  Greek  is  exceed 
ingly  rusty,  you  may  consult  Athenseus  with  profit  and 
pleasure  in  Bonn's  edition  of  Yonge's  literal  translation. 
I  looked  into  it  not  long  ago,  and  found  that  I  could 
understand  it  nearly  or  quite  as  well  as  the  original,  which 
is  more  than  I  can  say  for  most  of  the  translations  which 
our  college  lads  use  for  "ponies." 

Amongst  an  infinite  number  of  delicious  excerpfs  from 
Greek  poets  as  popular  in  their  day  as  Beranger  is  in  our 
own,  but  of  whom  nothing  remains  to  posterity  but  ex 
quisite  fragments,  he  quotes  a  long  passage  from  Critias, 
who  thus  begins  a  poem  which,  by  the  way,  is  palpably 
the  model  of  the  well-known  lines  of  Goethe,  and  of  Byron 
who  is  thought  to  have  borrowed  from  him.  Yet  as 
Byron  knew  much  more  Greek  than  he  did  German,  I  have 
no  doubt  that  both  he  and  Goethe  copied  directly  from 
the  old  Greek.  Byron  has  it  thus  : 

"  Know  you  the  land  of  the  cypress  aud  myrtle  ?" 


KNOWN   TO   THE   ANCIENTS?  155 

Critias,  addressing  his  native  land  of  Sicily,  says  •  — 

"  Hail  to  the  land  of  the  dim  Proserpine! 
There  sparkles  and  foams  the  mirth-boding  wine, 
With  its  froth,  its  fun  and  noise, 
Its  folly,  its  wisdom,  its  joys — 
The  folly  of  sages,  the  wisdom  of  boys." 

Does  not  the  "  sparkling  and  foaming,"  etc.,  clearly  refer 
to  some  effervescent,  frothing  wine  ? 

Again,  Athenseus  quotes  various  passages  from  Alexis, 
who  seems  to  have  been  a  Lesbian  Tom  Moore,  for  he 
luxuriates  over  "the  rich  and  rosy  wine"  of  the  island 
of  Lesbos,  and  thus  addresses  Bacchus  on  this  wine :  — 

"Hail  vine-crowned  Bacchus,  chief  divine, 
Who  from  his  sea-girt  Lesbian  lair 
Erst  floated  out  the  demon  Care 
With  sparkling,  ruby  wine." 

Can  there  be  any  reasonable  doubt  that  the  "sparkling 
ruby  wine,"  with  its  proper  concomitant,  "the  floating 
out  of  old  Care"  from  the  place  where  he  had  long 
nestled  in  gloomy  security,  all  allude  to  a  choice,  efferves 
cing,  red  wine,  precisely  of  the  quality  of  an  excellent 
vin  rose  inousseux  de  Champagne  f 

Then  gushes  forth  a  torrent  of  quotations  out  of  the 
inexhaustible  memory  of  this  philosopher  of  good  suppers, 
from  the  poet  Hermippus,  who  seems  a  cosmopolitan  sort 
of  a  bard,  and  writes  as  if  he  were  at  home  over  all  the 
known  world.  Complimenting  other  wines,  for  which 
he  had  unquestionably  a  right  liberal  and  Catholic  faith, 


156  WAS    CHAM  PAG  MO 

the  poet  after  praising  the  "Thasian's  mild  perfume," 
bursts  into  admiration  of 

"  The  bloom  that  mantles  high 

O'er  Homer's  Chiah  cup." 

In  every  one  of  these  beautiful  fragments  you  perceive 
the  mantling,  pettilant  character  of  our  best  Champagne 
mousseux  or  demi-mousseux,  and  there  are  clear  indications 
(ki  the  original,  at  least)  of  the  golden  color  of  some  of 
these  sparkling  vintages,  and  the  roseate  tinge  of  others. 

By  the  way,  there  is  another  ancient  usage  of  which 
Athenaeus  has  preserved  the  memory  together  with  that 
of  dozens  of  authors  whose  very  names  would  have  been 
swept  into  oblivion  with  their  poems,  their  songs,  their 
ballads,  and  their  comedies,  which  were  once  the  charm  of 
the  civilized  world,  had  it  not  been  for  the  inexhaustible 
memory  of  this  most  catholic  of  quoters.  The  fact  may 
not  be  conclusive,  but  it  is  at  least  corroborative  of  the 
opinion  I  maintain. 

It  is  that  the  Greeks  were  accustomed  to  cool  their 
wines  even  by  snow,  as  they  were  not  blessed  with  our 
ice-houses.  What  is  this  but  an  anticipation  of  the  Vin 
de  Champagne  JFrappe  of  our  modern  tables  ? 

I  must  content  myself  with  only  one  more  authority 
from  this  source.  Athenseus  himself,  in  his  sober,  prose 
speculations,  says  (  Lib.  1,  §  59)  of  a  certain  wine,  "  This 
kind  is  a  wine  which  has  a  tendency  to  mount  upward." 

Now,  with  all  deference  to  my  old  friend  Schweighauser 
(who  quite  overlooks  the  point),  how  can  any  of  the  above 


KNOWN   TO  THE   ANCIENTS?  157 

passages  be  explained  without  understanding  them  to 
refer  to  wines  resembling  our  sparkling  Champagne  ? 

If  I  thought  that  you  could  read  Greek  with  any  sort 
of  facility,  I  should  not  have  troubled  you  with  the  above 
imperfect  but  not  unfaithful  versions  of  these  precious 
fragments.  They  are  more  faithful  than  those  of  Bonn's 
translation,  if  not  more  poetical ;  yet,  like  his,  they  are 
far  from  expressing  the  force  and  truth  of  the  original. 
In  reading  aloud  these  exquisite  fragments  in  their  native 
Greek,  I  hear  the  whizzing  burst  of  the  exploded  cork,  I 
see  the  foaming  froth  of  the  goblet,  I  scent  the  flowery 
perfume  of  its  delicate  bouquet. 

These  and  other  authorities  in  Athenseus  and  the  bright 
dramatists  and  poets  whose  gems  the  philosopher  has  pre 
served  in  his  sober  prose,  like  pearls  in  amber,  are  quite 
sufficient  for  my  argument  as  to  the  Greek.  When  I 
get  home  among  my  books,  I  am  sure  that  I  can  fortify 
these  authorities  by  many  passages  to  the  same  effect, 
from  Plato,  Aristotle,  Ptolema3us,  Hippocrates,  and  St. 
Chrysostom. 

Yet  there  is  one  other  authority  not  to  be  omitted  in 
such  a  discussion.  It  is  even  that  of  old  Homer  himself. 
In  some  thirty  or  more  passages  he  paints  his  gods  or 
heroes  gazing  upon  the  angry  sea,  to  which  he  gives  the 
epithet  ou/oi/',  literally  "  wine-faced."  The  translators 
and  commentators  tell  us  that  the  compound  word  means 
"  dark,"  or  "  ruddy,"  like  the  wine  of  that  age.  What 
stupidity !  Is  it  not  clear  that  it  refers  to  the  foam- 


158  WAS    CHAMPAGNE 

covered  deep — that  it  paints  the  angry  main  with  its 
whole  surface  instinct  with  life,  and  mantling  and  foam 
ing  like  the  best  foaming  wine  of  the  times — probably  like 
that  "Chian  wine,"  that  the  poetic  fragments  in 
Athenseus  tell  us  was  Homer's  favorite  brand.  In  brief, 
the  only  translation  which  can  convey  the  force  of  the 
epithet  to  a  modern  is  the  "  Champagne-like-  deep."  It 
is  impossible  to  describe  more  happily  the  "foam-faced 
sea,"  the  olvoxa  #ovrov  on  which  Achilles  gazes,  and  calls 
forth  his  sea-born  mother,  in  the  beginning  of  the  Epic 
story.  How  admirably  does  this  harmonize  with  the 
wild  spirit  of  the  hero,  and  the  stormy  tale  of  his  wrath 
and  his  glory.  It  becomes  nearly  as  flat  as  the  leavings 
of  yesterday's  uncorked  Champagne,  if  this  glowing 
epithet  is  reduced  to  "dark,"  or  "ruddy,"  or  even  to 
"claret-colored," — which  last  would  be  at  least  more 
poetical,  though  not  more  accurate. 

Next,  then,  for  the  Romans.  That  a  delicate  vin 
inousseux  petillant,  a  foaming  and  sparkling  wine,  was 
familiar  to  the  tastes  of  the  refined  gentlemen  of  Rome  in 
the  time  of  Maecenas  and  his  little  senate  of  poets,  and 
soldiers,  and  philosophers,  we  need  no  better  proof  than 
the  testimony  of  Virgil  himself,  who  graphically  repre 
sents  the  drinking  of  just  such  a  wine  as  that  with  which 
you  oblige  your  friends  at  various  prices,  and  under  sundry 
brands,  but  all  choice  and  dear.  I  take  first  the  literal 
meaning  of  Virgil's  melodious  verses,  though  I  have  long 
thought  that  those  contained  a  deeper  secondary  and 


KNOWN   TO    THE   ANCIENTS?  159 

recondite  sense,  referring  to  the  recherche  repasts  of  Vir 
gil's  great  friend  and  patron,  Maecenas.  It  is  in  the  close 
of  the  first  book  of  the  ^Eneid,  in  the  recital  of  Dido's 
royal  banquet  to  the  Trojan  chief.  Toward  the  end  of 
the  feast,  Dido  is  described  as  ordering,  and  receiving, 
and  filling  with  wine,  the  hereditary  massive  goblet  of 
gold  and  gems,  used  by  her  progenitor  Belus,  and  the 
long  line  of  her  ancestors,  — 

"'Hie  Regiua  gravem  gcmmis  auroque  poposcit, 
Implevitque  mero,  paterarn,  quam  Bclus  et  omnes 
A  Belo  soliti " — 

Then,  after  a  pause  of  silence,  she  invokes  Jove,  the  God 
of  hospitable  laws,  to  make  that  day  auspicious  alike  to 
the  wanderers  of  Troy  and  her  own  subjects,  exiles  from 
Tyre.  After  inviting  the  favorable  presence  of  Bacchus, 
the  giver  of  mirth,  and  of  the  gracious  Juno,  next  she 
pours  on  the  table  the  liquid  honors  of  libation  (laticum 
libavit  honorem] ;  and  after  touching  the  bowl  with  her 
lip,  passes  it  on,  with  gay  chiding  at  his  slowness,  to  her 
next  neighbor  Bitias.  Whereupon, 

"  Ille  intpiger  hausit 

SpumanUm  paleram,  et  pleno  se  proluit  auro." 

For  the  sake  of  being  very  accurate,  I  have  given  you 
an  exact  prose  version  of  the  preceding  lines,  instead  of 
my  own  resounding  translation ;  still,  as  I  have  already 
informed  you,  in  the  press  of  Ticknor  &  Fields.  I 
proceed  in  the  same  way  as  to  those  last  quoted.  "  He 


160  WAS    CHAMPAGNE 

(Bitias),  no  slouch  at  his  glass — (none  of  the  translators 
in  any  tongue,  have  given  the  sense  of  im/piger  with 
such  precision),  drained  off  the  foaming  cup,  and  bathed 
himself  in  the  overflowing  gold."  Here,  again,  so  far  as 
I  can  remember,  no  one  of  the  translators  or  commenta 
tors — I  have  examined  all  of  them  in  my  time,  though 
not  very  lately — has  given  the  full  force  of  the  '  '•plena  se 
proluit  auro,"  for  though  it  implies  that  this  inexpert 
drinker  drenched  himself  with  the  choice  liquor  contain 
ed  in  the  golden  goblet,  it  also  unquestionably  means  that 
he  bathed  his  face  in  that  vinous  spray  with  which  frothing 
Champagne  often  moistens  or  even  bathes  the  face  of  the 
hasty  and  ill-mannered  drinker.  Good  Abbe  De  Lille, 
better  accustomed  to  the  pleasures  of  Champagne  than 
the  port-drinking  English  translators  and  the  beer-loving 
German  commentators,  comes  much  nearer  in  his 

"  S'abreuvanl  a  longs  traits  du  nectar  ecumant." 

But  you  will  see  how  much  better  even  than  this  I  shall 
'do  it  in  my  translation,  which,  as  I  have  announced  at 
least  twice  before,  is  now  in  press. 

Here,  then,  I  may  triumphantly  rest  my  argument. 
Yet  I  cannot  refrain  from  adding  what  is  probably 
known  to  very  few  scholars  out  of  Italy.  It  is  this ;  Car 
dinal  Mai,  whose  services  to  learning  have  entitled  him 
to  the  lasting  gratitude  of  all  scholars,  discovered, 
eighteen  months  ago,  among  the  hitherto  unexplored 
treasures  of  the  Vatican  library,  a  manuscript,  as  yet 


KNOWN   TO   THE    ANCIENTS  ?  161 

imprinted,  containing  the  ^Eneid  with  the  notes  of  an 
anonymous  old  commentator  or  scholiast,  evidently 
nearly  contemporary  with  the  poet,  or  at  least  of  the 
very  next  generation  to  him,  full  of  curious  criticism  and 
still  more  curious  facts.  This  old  scholiast,  in  his  note 
on  the  very  passage  just  under  consideration,  confirms  a' 
conjecture  of  my  own,  which  I  communicated  in  a  paper 
of  mine  to  the  ' '  London  Classical  Journal"  some  twelve 
years  ago  or  more.  He  expressly  says  that  this  passage 
was  meant  to  be  understood  in  its  literal  sense  by  ordi 
nary  readers  and  by  posterity,  but  that  it  also  referred, 
in  its  interior  or/esoteric  sense,  to  the  habits  of  Maecenas 
at  his  festive  board,  where  Horace,  Pollio,  Yams,  and 
Virgil  were  in  the  habit  of  dining  with  him  twice  every 
week,  not  including  his  birthday  parties  and  other  high 
festivities.  On  these  occasions  those  favorite  guests  were 
always  treated  with  a  certain  foaming  wine  of  the 
"Dido  brand" — "vino  effervescent,  spumanteque,  ampho- 
ris  notd  Didonis  signatis" 

He  adds,  also,  that  this  wine  was  always  supplied  for 
the  table  of  Maecenas  from  the  wine-vaults  of  Sulpicius, 
"  Sulpicianis  horreis"  the  same  eminent  wine-merchant 
whose  stock  is  mentioned  with  great  reverence  by  Hor 
ace  in  one  of  his  odes. 

As  far  as  I  can  make  out  the  topography  of  old  Rome, 
Sulpicius  had  his  chief  commercial  establishment  in 
Curtius  street,  nearly  opposite  to  the  first  city  station  of 
the  great  Appian  Way,  the  Hudson  River  Railroad  of 


162  WAS    CHAMPAGNE 

old  Rome,  a  locality  not  very  unlike  yours  in  your  own 
city. 

I  trust  that  you  are  now  quite  satisfied  that  the  gentle 
men  and  of  Greece  Rome  were  accustomed  to  quaff  a 
generous  and  pure  vin  mousseux,  quite  like,  and  in  no 
way  inferior  to  the  best  Champagne  of  our  times.  I 
trust,  also,  that  you  will  have  ambition  and  patriotism 
enough  to  make  the  resemblance  between  old  imperial 
Rome  and  your  commercial  Rome  still  more  perfect  by 
arranging  with  your  correspondents  at  Rheims  or  at  Cin 
cinnati  to  supply  you  with  a  DIDO  brand  of  the  very 
choicest  quality.  Recollect  that  it  must  not  be  non  rnous- 
seux  or  still,  or  even  merely  cremant,  but  resembling  as 
near  as  may  be  the  Dido  wine  of  antiquity,  spumans, 
petillant,  mousseux,  sparkling,  foaming,  fragrant,  and 
with  the  more  important  qualities  of  a  delicate  aroma 
and  an  unimpeachable  bouquet. 

Yours,  very  truly, . 

P.S. — Remember  me  to  our  friend  Dr.  Francis,  and  con 
gratulate  him  for  me,  on  the  honor  of  the  legal  doctorate 
so  worthily  added  last  month  to  his  medical  dignity  by 
his  venerable  and  distinguished  Alma  Mater.  She  has 
anticipated  our  university  in  this  grateful  duty.  Yet  I 
trust  that  our  governing  powers  will  not  neglect  to  add 
his  name  to  the  list  of  those  eminent  persons  educated 
elsewhere,  but  crowned  with  our  academic  laurel,  who 
figure  in  our  triennial  catalogue. 


KNOWN    TO    THE    ANCIENTS?  163 

By  the  way,  why  does  not  the  doctor,  in  his  capacity 
of  the  Herodotus  of  your  local  history,  amongst  the  fossil 
remains  of  the  last  century  which  he  has  dishuined,  make 
out  to  dig  up  some  choice  reminiscences  (there  must  have 
been  much  material  for  such)  of  the  long  residence  of 
Brillat  Savarin  in  New  York  between  sixty  and  seventy 
years  ago.  I  was  exceedingly  interested  with  the  account 

of  him  related  by  Mr. in  my  visit  to  the  Century 

Club  with  you  the  last  time  I  was  in  your  city.  That 
the  immortal  author  of  the  great  work  on  Transcendental 
Gastronomy  should  have  lived  for  some  years  in  New 
irork,  by  scraping  the  violin  in  the  humble  and 
unscientific  orchestra  of  the  John  street  and  Park 
Theatres,  under  the  rule  of  Dunlap  or  Price,  and  then 
emerged  in  Paris  the  most  successful  of  authors,  the 
gayest  and  wisest  of  table  philosophers,  and,  moreover,  a 
Judge  of  the  Court  of  Cassation,  the  highest  tribunal  of 
France,  promoted  to  that  high  station  by  the  discriminat 
ing  Napoleon,  and  continued  by  the  Bourbons,  is  as 
whimsical  and  as  surprising  a  vicissitude  of  fortune  as 
any  of  the  incidents  in  the  life  of  Louis  Philippe  or  of 
Louis  Napoleon.  I  must  unquestionably  have  seen  him 
more  than  once  in  former  days,  at  the  Court  of  Cassation, 
seated  by  the  side  of  his  venerable  chief,  the  Legitimist 
Premier  President  De  Seze,  and  there  affirming  or  re 
versing  the  decisions  of  the  courts  below,  involving 
millions  of  francs  and  the  most  thorny  points  of  the  Code. 
But  I  never  could  dreain  that  amongst  these  dignified 


164  WAS    CHAMPAGNE    KNOWN,   KTC. 

sages  of  the  law,  in  their  grave  customary  robes  and  ju 
dicial  caps  d  mortier,  I  saw  the  sprightly  author  of  the 
"Physiology  of  Taste,"  who  had  erst  for  two  or  more 
years  been  first  violin  of  the  only  theatre  in  village-like 
New  York  during  the  play-going  days  of  your  grand 
father. 


XXIV. 

Certnan  Wiintx  an*  a  Wiinz 

v 

p  the  Rhine  in  the  leaf  j  month  of  June,  one  might 
go  further  and  fare  worse,  especially  with  regard 
to  wine.  The  fact  is,  it  is  a  noble  thing  to  find  some 
good  in  one's  surroundings.  To  pass  serenely  and  quietly 
from  Claret,  Burgundy,  and  Champagne  to  Schiedam 
Schnapps  and  thence  to  Johannesberger,  Marcobrunner, 
Riidesheimer,  and  even  Piesporter,  without  a  groan. 
To  take  a  glass  of  Completer  at  Coire  or  allay  thirst  by 
Vin  de  Glacier,  Yvorne,  or  St.  Georges,  through  the 
land  of  snow-capped  mountains  and  yodles ;  thence  de 
scending  to  d'Asti,  Barbera,  Campidano  di  Lombardi, 
Canonao  del  Sardegna,  Monte  Fiascone,  Orvietto  and 
Lagrima  Christi ;  drinking  Aguardiente,  Sherry,  and  Val 
de  Pefias  in  Spain,  coming  down  to  Bouza  in  Cairo  or 
Mahayah  in  Morocco,  pitching  into  Vodke  or  Kisslys- 
chtxhy  in  Russia.  Behold,  QUO  DUCIT  GULA  ! 

Perhaps,  for  euphony,  it  is  the  best  way  to  sum  up 
German  wines  under  the  headings  Rhine  wine,  Moselle 
wine  or  the  popular  hock ;  for  what  Anglo-Saxon  head 

*  See  Preface. 


166  GERMAN    WINES,    AND    A 

can  always  recall  even  a  few  names  like  Augenscheimer, 
Assmannliaiiser,  Affenthaler,  Bacharach,  Brauneberger, 
Bischeimer,  Bessinglieimer,  Bodenheimer,  Bechebacher, 
Berncasther,  Deidesheimer,  Epsteiner,  Euohariusberger, 
Geissenheimer,  Graacher,  Griienhauser,  Hocliheimer, 
Hinterhaus,  Johannesberger,  Liebfraumilcli,  Lauben- 
heimer,  Liestener,  Mittelheimer,  Marcobrunner,  Nier- 
steiner,  Oppenheimer,  Pitcher,  B/iidesheimer,  Rauen- 
thaler,  Schamet,  Steinberger,  Steinwein,  Schiersteiner, 
Thiergartner,  Walporger  and  Zeltingener? 

It  is  a  popular  fallacy  to  suppose  good  German  wines 
are  acid ;  they  are  dry,  fine  flavored,  and  keep  better 
than  the  five  hundred  year  immortality  of  an  oil  paint 
ing.  As  for  the  alcohol  in  them,  by  a  careful  analysis, 
Hochheimer  showed  only  14.37  per  cent,  of  pure  alcohol, 
while  a  very  old  sample,  only  marked  8.8,  a  lower  figure 
than  almost  any  of  the  French  wines. 

Johannesberger  from  the  Schloss,  is  the  king  of  Ger 
man  wines;  twenty-five  years  ago,  Mumm  and  Giesler 
of  Cologne  and  Johannesberg,  held  the  vintage  of  1822 
at  the  rate  of  $10  per  gallon ;  at  compound  interest  it 
would  now  be  worth  about  $60  per  gallon !  This  wine 
with  Steinberger,  Geissenheimer,  and  Hochheimer,  have 
the  most  delicate  flavor  and  aroma  of  all  German  wines. 
The  warmest  seasons  insure  the  best  vintages,  so  those 
of  1748,  1766,  1779,  1783,  1800,  1802,  and  1811  were 
celebrated  among  the  past  generation  as  we  now  look  to 
1834,  1839,  1842  and  1846.  Pure  air  and  plenty  of  sun- 


WINE    CELLAIi.  167 

light  aj'e  the  best  guardians  for  vines,  and  those  crowning 
the  high  lands  yield  wine  of  the  best  body,  while  those 
in  the  low  lands  are  poorer,  and  the  wine  requires  years 
to  attain  a  really  fine  flavor.  Next  to  Johannesberger 
comes  Steinberger  of  the  Duke  of  Nassau,  the  iron  hand 
in  a  velvet  glove,  delicate  as  a  zephyr,  it  has  the  strength 
of  a  hurricane ;  kiss  the  beauty,  but  don't  arouse  the 
virago.  Hercules  viraginem  victi,  but  every  one  is  not  a 
"Dutchman!" 

There  is  something  very  attractive  in  Liebfraumilch ; 
the  best  comes  from  Worms,  it  has  a  good  body  and 
should  be  drunk  reflectively,  this  milk  for  babes.  While 
Marcobrunner,  Rudesheimer,  and  Niersteiner  are  for  arms 
and  the  sword  song  of  Korner. 

Brauneberger  ranks  first  among  Moselle  wines,  and 
according  to  young  Germany,  there  is  not  a  headache  in 
a  hogshead  of  it ;  certainly  after  two  bottles  of  it,  there 
was  no  Jcazenjammer  next  morning.  The  old  story  that 
Bacchus,  when  he  lived  in  the  Fatherland,  having 
invited  Jupiter  down  stairs  to  make  a  night  of  it  on 
Brauneberger,  so  pleased  the  latter  with  this  tipple,  that 
he  at  once  ordered  all  he  could  buy,  on  credit,  for 
Olympus,  to  take  the  place  of  nectar,  for  a  change  ;  may 
be  true.  When  you  go  to  Heidelberg,  stop  at  the  Black 
Eagle  Hotel,  and  ask  Herr  Lehr,  the  landlord,  for  a  bot 
tle  of  Sparkling  White  Moselle ;  drink  it  in  the  court 
yard  under  the  vine  leaves,  and  to  the  sound  of  that 
fountain  where  the  large  trouts  swim ! 


168  GEKMAN    WINES,    AND    A 

To  look  forward  for  ten  years  to  seeing  a  cellar  and 
then  have  it  turn  out  a  "  sell,"  is  one  of  the  agonies  of 
travel.  Possibly  under  other  circumstances,  Auerbach's 
cellar  in  Leipsic  would  have  worn  less  the  air  of  a  show- 
shop,  or  less  like  Julius  Caesar  in  peg-tops  and  a  stove-pipe 
hat,  than  I  found  it,  but  not  even  a  bottle  of  Hoch- 
heimer — those  paintings  on  the  wall  representing  Faust's 
appearance  and  disappearance,  and  the  old  admonition 
of  1525: 

"VlVE,  BIBE,  OBREGARE,  MEMOE,"  etc. 

could  bring  up  anything  ideal — so  I  left.  At  Mayence  I 
was  more  favored,  and  though  the  scene  comes  up  through 
several  glasses  dimly,  at  least  the  attempt  can  be  made 
to  describe  an  old-fashioned  cellar,  where  travelling 
English  don't  ask  "for  that  table,  ah,  he  bored  the  holes 
in,  you  know.  Faust,  I  mean.  Three  wax  stoppers, 
and  all  that  sort  of  thing?"  "Haven't  got  it,  sir!  " 
answers  the  Jccllner.  "  Then  why  the  —  don't  you  make 
one !  "  says  despairing  England. 

On  the  steamer  from  Coblentz,  I  formed  the  acquaint 
ance  of  an  officer,  a  lieutenant,  who  was  just  off  duty 
from  Ehrenbreitstein,  and  was  on  his  way  to  Frankfort. 
Arriving  after  sunset,  we  determined  to  stay  that  night 
at  Mayence,  and  go  on  next  morning  by  railroad  to 
Frankfort.  After  dinner  at  the  hotel,  we  strolled  out  to 
look  around  town,  and  finally,  as  we  crossed  a  narrow 
street,  he  proposed  a  bottle  of  Brauneberger  in  a  cellar 
on  the  opposite  side  of  the  way,  a  quiet  old  nest,  ho 


\VIXE    CELLAR.  169 

Baid,  where  only  old-fashioned  and  well-to-do  Mayeiizers 
were  to  be  found.  Down  we  went,  and  passing  through 
an  anteroom,  where  a  fine  specimen  of  a  broad-shouldered 
middle-aged  German  was  talking  with  a  spectacled  old 
gentleman  with  the  air  of  a  Professor,  in  a  land  where 
Professors  are  something;  we  were  passing  on  to  the 
next  cellar,  when  the  broad-shouldered  landlord,  bowing 
with  great  respect,  saluted  my  companion  with  a  string 
of  titles  as  long  as  a  roll  of  sausages.  Upon  which  the 
Herr  Professor,  for  such  he  was,  lifted  his  hat  politely 
to  us,  and,  salutations  over,  we  entered  the  next  cellar 
attended  by  the  landlord. 

"Altmayer,"  said  the  officer,  turning  to  him,  "a  bottle 
of  that  Brauneberger."  And  duly  and  deliberately  the 
portly  wirth  departed,  soon  returning  with  the  Moselle 
Nectar  and  glasses.  If  Hasenclever  has  not  visited  that 
cellar,  he  has  sketched  its  match  in  some  quaint  old 
German  city,  for  there  it  was,  an  interior  worth  crossing 
three  oceans  to  sit  in,  and  drink  Moselle  or  Rhine  wine. 
The  low  ceiling  was  spanned  with  groined  arches,  dusky 
with  age,  not  dark,  as  the  olla  color  of  Murillo,  but  a 
light-brown  coffee-color,  with  a  dash  of  light,  borrowed 
from  the  lamp  that  hung  in  the  centre  of  the  cellar,  and 
whose  light  just  penetrated  to  the  great  butts  lining  the 
walls.  The  round  table  at  which  we  were  seated  was  of 
oak,  dark  with  age,  and  anything  more  beautiful  in  the 
way  of  the  light  that  shone  through  our  brimming 
glasses  of  Brauneberger,  and  was  reflected  on  that  dark 


170  GERMAN    WINES,    AND    A 

oak,  I  have  never  seen.  The  wirth  having  returned  to 
the  ante-room,  my  companion,  evidently  pleased  with  the 
interest  I  took  in  the  surroundings  of  the  cellar,  judi 
ciously  kept  silence  until  I  had  thoroughly  viewed  it  all, 
sipping  slowly  the  delicate  wine,  and  wondering  how  all 
the  sunlight  got  into  the  cellar  at  night.  There  was 
positively  a  thin  golden  cloud  all  around  us,  and  such 
serene  repose  as  a  traveller  who  has  been  through  a 
dozen  galleries  of  paintings,  innumerable  churches,  etc., 
all  in  one  day,  believes  to  be  the  height  of  pleasure,  i.  e., 
KHEYF  ! 

' '  I  am  very  glad  we  came  here,"  said  the  lieutenant, 
1 '  for  I  see  you  can  appreciate  what  I  have  always 
thought  one  of  the  most  picturesque  wine  cellars  in  this 
part  of  Germany.  Have  yon  noticed  the  grotesque 
carving  on  that  door  leading  to  the  further  cellar?" 
Turning  my  head  in  the  direction  indicated,  I  noticed  a 
pointed  arch  doorway,  surrounded  with  the  most  beautiful 
gothic  tracery  leaves,  birds,  monkeys,  grapes,  curious 
grinning  heads,  all  cut  in  stone,  while  the  oak  panels  of 
the  door  were  rich  in  carved  flowers  and  leaves. 

"The  oak  door,"  said  the  lieutenant,  "is  a  modern 
addition  of  the  wirtKs,  but  the  rest  runs  back  to  the 
16th  century."  While  I  was  still  looking  at  the  curious 
carving  round  the  door,  three  or  four  middle-aged  gen 
tlemen,  together  with  the  spectacled  Professor,  entered 
the  cellar,  and  after  polite  salutations,  drew  up  to  the 
table,  and  the  wirth  soon  appeared  with  bottles  and 


WINE    CELLAR.  171 

glasses  for  the  different  private  guests,  for  in  such  light 
they  all  appeared  and  acted.  Having  a  cigar  case  well 
stocked  with  a  supply  of  Partagas  primer  as,  it  went  the 
vounds,  and  the  cigars  were  accepted  after  much  urging 
on  my  part,  for  the  idea  is  not  German ;  I  had  the  satis 
faction  of  reaping  an  amount  of  gratified  expressions 
from  each  smoker  that  paid  me  for  the  sacrifice ;  for  I  had 
nursed  the  few  I  brought  with  me  from  the  States  with 
great  care.  Conversation  flowed  on  easily,  and  the 
second  bottle  of  Brauneberger  went  the  way  of  the  first ; 
it  was  even  better  nectar  than  its  leader.  The  h'ght  in 
the  cellar  appeared  brighter  and  brighter,  the  golden 
cloud  seemed  filled  with  bees-wings'  humming,  the  great 
butts  looming  out  of  the  mellow  light  looked  like  brown 
Franciscans  making  merry  over  a  bottle  of  sambuca. 
The  spectacled  Professor  told  a  right  good  story  two  feet 
broad,  the  other  elderly  gentlemen  kept  it  up!  The 
lieutenant  ordered  a  third  bottle  of  Brauneberger,  which 
was  better  than  its  predecessors. 

Then  there  came  in  a  wandering  violin-player,  blind 
as  a  bat,  and  a  very  pretty  girl  with  a  guitar,  who  was 
not  blind,  as  her  bright  eyes,  shining  on  the  handsome 
lieutenant,  plainly  told,  and  when  she  sung  that  pretty 
song  of  "Frau  Nachtigal,"  it  appeared  to  me,  after  the 
wine,  that  she  accented  those  lines — 


"  Wer  du  bist,  der  bin  auch  ich, 
| :  Drum  lass  nach — zu  lieben  mich":  | 


172  GEKMAN    WINES,    AND    A 

and  regarded  the  lieutenant  in  the  adoring  style,  permit 
ting,  at  some  future  time,  any  amount  of  poussirmg,  as 
the  Germans  have  it.  Then  we  ordered  just  one  more 
bottle  of  Brauneberger,  and  the  lieutenant,  taking  the 
guitar  from  the  pretty  girl,  sung  in  a  fine,  baritone  voice, 
"  Soldatenleben  "— 

"  Kein  besser  Leben, 
1st  auf  dieser  Welt  zu  denken  " — 

and  the  old  gentlemen  joined  in  the  "Valleri,  vallera, 
valle-ra !  "  chorus  with  hearty  good  will  and  kreutz 
fideldy  ! 

Several  glasses  of  wine  were  bestowed  on  the  blind 
violinist,  a  collection  made  for  the  pretty  girl,  who 
assured  the  lieutenant  her  name  was  Aennchen  von 
Tharau,  which  he  doubted,  insisting  on  it  that  Aennchen 
died  in  1650  and  lived  in  Himmel  Strasse!  But  she 
gave  us  a  parting  song,  prettily  sung,  and  floated  off  into 
that  golden  cloud  and  hum  of  bees,  and  the  old  Francis 
cans  smiled  away  from  the  big  butts,  and  the  spectacled 
Professor  bore  us  backward  in  his  discourse  to  the  days 
when  men  passed  whole  lives  as  we  were  now  passing 
hours,  and  believed  they  were  doing  right,  the  illiterate) 
heathens. 

"The  Herr  Professor  will  have  us  in  Egyptian  bond 
age  directly,  unless  we  hurry  away,"  said  the  lieutenant 
to  me  in  a  low  voice ;  so  we  arose,  as  arise  men  who 
bear  away  many  bottles ;  and  kindly  greetings  and 


WINE    CELLAE.  173 

adieux  bore  us  off  to  the  wirth,  who  hoped  to  see  us 
soon  again,  and  bestowed  all  the  titles  on  my  companion 
that  he  had  inherited  and  won ;  and  we  sailed  out  into 
the  moonlit  streets  of  Mayenee,  and  down  to  the  hotel 
by  the  arrowy  Rhine,  and  slept  the  sleep  of  men  who 
have  drank  good  Brauneberger  in  a  grand  old  cellar 
surrounded  by  refined  and  genial  companions. 

VALE! 


XXV. 


of  garnered  rhyme,  from  hidden  stores  of  olden  time,  that 
since  the  language  did  begin,  have  welcomed  merry 
Christmas  in,  and  made  the  winter  nights  so  long,  fleet 
by  on  wings  of  wine  and  song  ;  for  when  the  snow  is  on 
the  roof,  the  house  within  is  sorrow  proof,  if  yule  log 
blazes  on  the  hearth,  and  cups  and  hearts  o'er-brirn  with 
mirth.  Then  bring  the  wassail  to  the  board,  with  nuts 
and  fruit  —  the  winter's  hoard  ;  and  bid  the  children  take 
off  shoe,  to  hang  their  stockings  by  the  flue  ;  and  let  the 
clear  and  frosty  sky,,  set  out  its  brightest  jewelry,  to  show 
old  Santa  Glaus  the  road,  so  he  may  ease  his  gimcrack 
load.  And  with  the  coming  of  these  times,  we'll  add 
some  old  and  lusty  rhymes,  that  suit  the  festive  season 
well,  and  sound  as  sweet  as  Christmas  belL  And  here's  a 
stave  from  rare  old  Ben,  who  wrote  with  most  melodious 

pen:  — 

"To  the  old,  long  life  and  treasure  ; 
To  the  young,  all  health  and  pleasure  ; 
To  the  fair,  their  face 
With  eternal  grace  ; 
And  the  soul  to  be  loved  at  leisure. 


A    CHRISTMAS    PIECE.  175 


To  the  witty,  all  clear  mirrors ; 
To  the  foolish,  their  dark  errors 

To  the  loving  sprite, 

A  secure  delight ; 
To  the  jealous,  their  own  false  terrors. " 

And  here's  from  that  Bricklayer's  pate,  a  stave  that's 
most  appropriate  ;  for  when  the  Christmas  chimes  begin, 
to  eat  and  drink  we  count  no  sin  ;  as  sexton  at  the  rope 
doth  pull,  it  cries,  "  Oh,  beU  !  bell !  bell-y-full !" 

HYMN. 

Room !  room !  make  room  for  the  Bouncing  Belly, 
First  father  of  sauce,  and  deviser  of  jelly ; 
Prime  master  of  art,  and  the  giver  of  wit, 
That  found  out  the  excellent  engine  the  spit  ; 
The  plough  and  the  flail,  the  mill  and  the  hopper, 
The  hutch  and  the  boulter,  the  furnace  and  copper^ 
The  oven,  the  boven,  the  mawken,  the  peel, 
The  hearth  and  the  range,  the  dog  and  the  wheel ; 
He,  he  first  invented  the  hogshead  and  tun, 
The  gimlet  and  vice,  too,  and  taught  them  to  run, 
And  since  with  the  funnel  and  hippocras  bag, 
He  has  made  of  himself;  that  he  now  cries  swag ! 

Now  just  bethink  of  castle  gate,  where  humble  mid 
night  mummers  wait,  to  try  if  voices,  one  and  all,  can- 
rouse  the  tipsy  seneschal,  to  give  them  bread  and  beer 
and  brawn,  for  tidings  of  the  Christmas  morn  ;  or  bid  each 
yelper  clear  his  throat,  with  water  of  the  castle  moat ;  for 
thus  they  used,  by  snow  and  torch,  to  rear  their  voices 
at  the  porch  :  — 


1TC  A    CHRISTMAS    PIECE. 

WASSAILKE'S  SONG. 

Wassail !  wassail !  all  over  the  town, 
Our  toast  it  is  wliite,  and  our  ale  it  is  brown } 
Our  bowl  is  made  of  a  maplin  tree ; 
We  be  good  fellows  all ; — I  drink  to  thee. 

Here's  to  our  horse,*  and  to  his  right  ear, 
God  send  our  measter  a  happy  new  year ; 
A  happy  new  year  as  e'er  he  did  see, — 
With  my  wassailing  bowl  I  drink  to  thee. 

Here's  to  our  mare,  and  to  her  right  eye, 
God  send  our  mistress  a  good  Christmas  pie ; 
A  good  Christmas  pie  as  e'er  I  did  see, — 
With  my  wassailing  bowl  I  drink  to  thee. 

Here's  .to  our  cow,  and  to  her  long  tail, 
God  send  our  measter  us  never  may  fail 
Of  a  cup  of  good  beer :  I  pray  you  draw  near, 
And  our  jolly  wassail  it's  then  you  shall  hear. 

Be  here  any  maids  ?  I  suppose  here  be  some ; 

Sure  they  will  not  let  young  men  stand  on  the  cold  stone ! 

Sing  hey  O,  maids !  come  trole  back  the  pin, 

And  the  fairest  maid  in  the  house  let  us  all  in. 

Come,  butler,  come,  bring  us  a  bowl  of  the  best ; 
I  hope  your  soul  in  heaven  will  rest ; 
But  if  you  do  bring  us  a  bowl  of  the  small, 
Then  down  fall  butler,  and  bowl  and  all. 

And  here's  a  Christmas  carol  meant  for  children,  and 
most  excellent,  and  though  the  monk  that  wrote  was 
hung,  yet  still  his  verses  may  be  sung. 

*  In  this  place,  and  in  the  first  line  of  the  following  verse,  the  name 
of  the  horse  is  generally  inserted  by  the  singer;  and  "  Filpail"  is  often 
substituted  for  "the  cow"  in  a  subsequent  verse. — Robert  Bell's  An 
cient  Poems,  Ballads,  and  Songs.  London :  1857. 


A    CHRISTMAS    P1.KCK.  1"£ 

A.   CAROL  BY  EGBERT  SOUTHWELL. 

As  I  in  a  hoarie,  winter's  night 

Stood  shivering  in  the  snow, 
Surpiiz'd  I  was  with  sudden  heat, 

Which  made  my  heart  to  glow ; 
And  lifting  up  a  fearefull  eye 

To  view  what  fire  was  neere, 
A  pre'.tie  babe,  all  burning  bright, 

Did  in  the  aire  appeare  ; 
Who,  scorchkl  with  excessive  heat, 

Such  flouds  of  teares  did  shed, 
Afl  though  his  flouds  should  quench  his  flames, 

Which  with  his  teares  were  bred : 
Alas !  (quoth  he)  but  newly  borne, 

In  fierie  heats  I  Me, 
Yet  none  approach  to  warm  theh  hearts, 

Or  feele  my  fire,  but  I  ; 
My  faultlesse  brest  the  furnace  is, 

The  fuell,  wounding  thornes : 
Love  is  the  fire,  and  sighs  the  smoke, 

The  ashes,  shames  and  scornes  ; 
The  fuell  justice  layeth  on, 

And  mercy  blows  the  coales, 
The  metalls  in  this  furnace  wrought, 

Are  Men's  defiled  soules  :  • 
For  which;  as  now  on  fire  I  am, 

To  work  them  to  their  good, 
So  will  I  melt  into  a  bath, 

To  wish  them  in  my  blood. 
With  this  he  vanisht  out  of  sight, 

And  swiftly  shrunke  away, 
And  straight  I  called  unto  minde 

That  it  was  Christmasse  Day. 

And  here's  a  song  so  pure  and  bright,  it  may  be  read 
on  Christmas  night,  unless  the  moon  her  light  do  lack, 
for  which  consult  the  almanac :  — 


178  A    CHRISTMAS    PIECE. 

A   HYMN  TO  DIANA. 

Queen  and  huntress,  chaste  and  fair, 

Now  the  sun  is  laid  to  sleep, 
Seated  in  thy  silver  chair, 
State  in  wonted  manner  keep ; 
Hesperus  entreats  thy  light, 
Goddess,  excellently  bright 

Earth,  let  not  thy  envious  shade, 

Dare  itself  to  interpose, 
Cynthia's  shining  orb  was  made 
Heaven  to  clear,  when  day  did  close : 
Bless  us,  then,  with  wished  right, 
Goddess,  excellently  bright. 

Lay  thy  bow  of  pearl  apart, 

And  thy  crystal-shining  quiver 
Give  unto  the  flying  hart 
Space  to  breathe,  how  short  soever ; 
Thou,  that  makest  a  day  of  night, 
Goddess,  excellently  bright. 

And  here  is  something  quaint  and  tough,  for  such  as 
have  not  had  enough :  a  Christmas  carol,  that  was  done 
in  16  hundred  twenty  1 :  — 

ANE  SANG   OF  THE   BIETH   OF   OHEIST. 

With  the  tune  of  Baw  lula  law. 
(Angelus,  ut  npinor,  loquitur.) 

I  come  from  Hevin  to  tell, 
The  best  Nowellis  that  ever  befell : 
To  yow  thir  Tythiuges  trew  I  bring, 
And  I  will  of  them  say  and  sing. 

This  Day  to  yow  is  borne  ane  Childe, 
Of  Marie  meik  ane  Virgine  mylde, 
That  btisset  Barne  billing  and  kynde 
Sail  yow  rejoyce  baith  Heart  and  JVIynd. 


A    CHEISTMAS    PIECE.  179 

My  Saull  and  Lyfe  stand  up  and  see 
Quha  lyes  in  ane  Cribe  and  Tree, 
Quhat  Babe  is  that  so  gude  and  faire  ? 
It  is  Christ,  God's  Sonne  and  Aire. 

O  God  that  made  all  Creature, 
How  art  thow  becum  so  pure, 
That  on  the  Hay  and  Stray  will  lye, 
Amang  the  Asses,  Oxin,  and  Kye  f 

O  my  deir  Hert,  zoung  Jesus  sweit, 
Prepare  thy  Creddil  in  my  Spreit, 
And  I  sail  rocke  t7iee  in  my  Hert, 
And  never  mair  from  thee  depart. 

But  I  sail  praise  thee  ever  moir 
With  Sangs  sweit  unto  thy  Gloir, 
The  Knees  of  my  Hert  sail  I  bow, 
And  sing  that  richt  Bcdulalow.* 

And  here  are  several  hints  to  show,  how  Christmas 
customs  first  did  grow,  for  as  the  holy  fathers  say,  some 
Pagan  tricks  we  Christians  play,  and  prove  that  Yule  and 
Christmas  box,  are  not  precisely  orthodox,  for  so  we  quote 
and  understand, 

ANTIQUITIES  FROM  FATHER  BRAND. 

In  the  Primitive  Church,  Christmas-Day  was  always 
observed  as  the  Lord} 8-Day  was,  and  was  in  like  Man- 


*  The  Rev.  Mr.  Lamb,  in  his  entertaining  notes  on  the  old  poem  on 
the  Battle  of  Flodden  Field,  tells  us  that  the  nurse's  lullaby  song, 
balow,  (or  "  he  balelow,")  is  literally  French.  "  He  bos!  lale  loupl " 
that  is,  "  hueh  !  there's  the  wolf ! " 


180  A    CHEISTMAS    PIECE. 

ner  preceded  by  an  Eve  or  Vigil.  Hence  it  is  that  our 
Church  hath  ordered  an  Eve  before  it,  which  is  observed 
by  the  Religious,  as  a  Day  of  Preparation  for  that  great 
Festival. 

V 

Our  Fore-Fathers,  when  the  common  Devotions  of  the 
Eve  were  over,  and  Night  was  come  on,  were  wont  to 
ught  up  Candles  of  an  uncommon  Size,  which  were  called 
Christmas-Candles,  and  to  lay  a  Log  of  Wood  upon  the 
fire,  which  they  termed  a  Yule-Clog  or  Christmas-Block. 
These  were  to  Illuminate  the  House,  and  turn  the  Night 
into  Day ;  which  Custom,  in  some  Measure,  is  still  kept 
up  in  the  Northern  Parts. 

The  Apostles  were  the  Light  of  the  World ;  and  as 
onr  Saviour  was  frequently  called  Light,  so  was  his 
Coming  into  the  World  signified,  and  pointed  out  by  the 
Emblems  of  Light :  "  It  was  then  "  (says  our  Countryman 
Gregory]  "  the  longest  Night  in  all  the  Year ;  and  it  was 
the  midst  of  that,  and  yet  there  was  Day  where  he  was  : 
For  a  glorious  and  betokening  Light  shined  round  about 
this  Holy  Child.  So  says  Tradition,  and  so  the  Masters 
describe  the  Night  Piece  of  the  Nativity."  If  this  be 
called  in  Question,  as  being  only  Tradition,  it  is  out  of 
Dispute,  that  the  Light  which  illuminated  the  Fields  ot 
Bethlehem,  and  shone  round  about  the  Shepherds  as  they 
were  watching  their  Flocks,  was  an  Emblem  of  that 
Light,  which  was  then  come  into  the  World.  "What  can 
be  the  Meaning,"  says  venerable  Bede,  "that  this  Appar 
ition  of  Angels  was  surrounded  with  that  heavenly  Light, 


A    CHRISTMAS   PIECE.  181 

which  is  a  Thing  we  never  meet  with  in  all  the  Old 
Testament  ?  For  tho'  Angels  have  appeared  to  Prophets 
and  holy  Men,  yet  we  never  read  of  their  Appearing  in 
such  Glory  and  Splendor  before.  It  must  surely  be,  be 
cause  this  Privilege  was  reserved  for  the  Dignity  of  this 
Time.  For  when  the  true  Light  of  the  World,  was  born 
in  the  World,  it  was  very  proper  that  the  Proclaimer  of 
His  Nativity,  should  appear  in  the  Eyes  of  Men,  in  such 
an  heavenly  Light,  as  was  before  unseen  in  the  World. 
And  that  supernatural  /Star,  which  was  the  Guide  of  the 
Eastern  Magi,  was  a  Figure  of  that  Star,  which  was 
risen  out  of  Jacob  ;  of  that  Light  which  should  lighten  the 
Gentiles."  "  God,"  says  Bishop  Taylor,  "  sent  a  miracu 
lous  Star,  to  invite  and  lead  them  to  a  new  and  more 
glorious  Light,  the  Light  of  Grace  and  Glory." 

In  Imitation  of  this,  as  Gregory  tells  us,  the  Church 
went  on  with  the  Ceremony :  And  hence  it  was,  that  for 
the  three  or  four  First  Centuries,  the  whole  Eastern 
Church  called  the  Day,  which  they  observed  for  our 
Saviour's  Nativity,  the  Epiphany  or  Manifestation  of  the 
Light.  And  Cassian  tells  us,  that  it  was  a  Custom  in 
Egypt,  handed  down  by  Tradition,  as  soon  as  the  Epiph 
any,  or  Day  of  Light  was  over,  &c.  Hence  also  came 
that  ancient  Custom  of  the  same  Church,  taken  Notice  of 
by  St.  Jerome,  of  lighting  up  Candles  at  the  Reading  of 
the  Gospel,  even  at  Noon-Day;  and  that,  not  to  drive 
away  the  Darkness,  but  to  speak  their  Joy  for  the  good 
Tidings  of  the  Gospel,  and  be  an  Emblem  of  that  Light, 


182  A    CHRISTMAS    PIECE. 

which  the  Psalmist  says,  was  a  Lamp  unto  his  Feet  and 
a  Light  unto  his  Paths. 

The  Yule-Dough  (or  Dow),  was  a  kind  of  Baby  or 
little  Image  of  Paste,  which  our  Bakers  used  formerly  to 
bake  at  this  Season,  and  present  to  their  Customers,  in 
the  same  manner  as  the  Chandlers  gave  Christmas 
Candles.  They  are  called  Yule-Cakes  in  the  county  of 
Durham.  I  find  in  the  antient  Calendar  of  the  Romish 
Church,  that  at  Rome,  on  the  Yigil  of  the  Nativity, 
Sweetmeats  were  presented  to  the  fathers  in  the  Vatican, 
and  that  all  Kinds  of  little  Images  (no  doubt  of  Paste} 
were  to  be  found  at  the  Confectioners'  Shops. 

There  is  the  greatest  Probability  that  we  have  had 
from  hence  both  our  Yule-Doughs  and  Mince  Pies,  the 
latter  of  which  are  still  in  common  Use  at  this  Season. 
The  Yule-Dough  has  perhaps  been  intended  for  an  Im 
age  of  the  Child  Jesus.  It  is  now,  if  I  mistake  not, 
pretty  generally  laid  aside,  or  at  most  retained  only  by 
Children. 

J.  Boemus  Aubanus  tells  us,  that  in  Franconia,  on  the 
three  Thursday  Nights  preceding  the  Nativity  of  our 
Lord,  it  is  customary  for  the  Youth  of  both  Sexes  to  go 
from  House  to  House,  knocking  at  the  Doors,  singing 
their  Christmas  Carrols,  and  wishing  a  happy  new  Year. 
They  get  in  Return  from  the  Houses  they  stop  at,  Pears, 
Apples,  Nuts,  and  even  Money. 

little  Troops  of  Boys  and  Girls  still  go  about  in  this 
very  Manner  at  Newcastle  some  few  Nights  before,  on 


A    CHRISTMAS    PIECE.  183 

the  Night  of  the  Eve  of  this  Day,  and  on  that  of  the  Day 
itself.  The  Hagmena*  is  still  preserved  among  them. 
They  still  conclude,  too,  with  wishing  "a  merry  Christ 
mas,  and  a  happy  new  Year." 

We  are  told  in  the  Athenian  Oracle,  that  the  Christ 
mas  Box  Money  is  derived  from  hence.  The  Romish 
Priests  had  Masses  said  for  almost  every  Thing:  If  a 
ship  went  out  to  the  Indies,  the  Priests  had  a  Box  in  her, 
under  the  Protection  of  some  Saint :  And  for  Masses,  as 
their  Cant  was,  to  be  said  for  them  to  that  Saint,  &c., 
the  poor  People  must  put  in  something  into  the  Priests' 
Box,  which  is  not  to  be  opened  till  the  Ship  return. 

The  Mass  at  that  time  was  called  Christmas  ;  the  Box, 
Christmas  Box,  or  Money  gathered  against  that  Time, 
that  Masses  might  be  made  by  the  Priests  to  the  Saints 
to  forgive  tliG  people  the  Debaucheries  tfthat  Time  ;  and 
from  this  Servants  had  the  Liberty  to  get  Box  Money, 
that  they  too  might  be  enabled  to  pay  the  Priest  for  his 
Masses,  knowing  well  the  Truth  of  the  Proverb : 

"No  Penny,  No  Pater-uoster." 

Another  Custom  observed  at  this  Season,  is  the  adorn 
ing  of  Windows  with  Bay  and  Laurel.  It  is  but  seldom 
observed  in  the  North,  but  in  the  Southern-Parts  it  is 
very  Common,  particularly  at  our  Universities  ;  where  it 
is  Customary  to  adorn,  not  only  the  Common  Windows 

*  Hagmena — i.e.,  Haginmcene,  holy  month. 


184  A    CHRISTMAS    PIECE. 

of  the  Town,  and  of  the  Colleges,  but  also  to  bedeck  the 
Chapels  of  the  Colleges,  with  Branches  of  Laurel. 

The  Laurel  was  used  among  the  ancient  Romans,  as 
an  Emblem  of  several  Things,  and  in  particular,  of  Peace, 
and  Joy,  and  Victory.  And  I  imagine,  it  has  been  used 
at  this  Season  by  Christians,  as  an  Emblem  of  the  same 
Things ;  as  an  Emblem  of  Joy  for  the  Victory  gain'd  over 
the  Powers  of  Darkness,  and  of  that  Peace  on  Earth,  that 
Good-will  towards  Men,  which  the  Angels  sung  over  the 
Fields  of  Bethlehem. 

It  has  been  made  use  of  by  the  Non  Conformists,  as 
an  Argument  against  Ceremonies,  that  the  second  Council 
of  Bracara,  Can.  73,  forbad  Christians  "  to  deck  their 
Houses  with  Bay  Leaves  and  Green  BougJis."  But  the 
Council  does  not  mean,  that  it  was  wrong  in  Christians 
to  make  use  of  these  Things,  but  only  "at  the  same  Time 
with  the  Pagans,  when  they  observed  and  solemnized  their 
Paganish  Pastime  and  Worship.  And  of  this  Prohibition, 
they  give  this  Reason  in  the  same  Canon  /  Omnis  hcec 
observatio  paganismi  est.  All  this  kind  of  Custom  doth 
hold  of  Paganism :  Because  the  outward  Practice  of 
Heathenish  Rites,  perform'd  jointly  with  the  Pagans 
themselves,  could  not  but  imply  a  Consent  in  Pagan 
ism." 

But  at  present,  there  is  no  hazard  of  any  such  Thing. 
It  may  be  an  Emblem  of  Joy  to  us,  without  confirming 
any,  in  the  practice  of  Heathenism.  The  Time,  the 
Place,  and  the  Iteasons  of  the  Ceremony,  arc  so  widely 


A    CHRISTMAS    PIECE.  185 

different,  that,  tho'  formerly,  to  have  observed  it,  would 
unquestionably  have  been  a  Sin,  it  is  now  become  harm 
less,  comely,  and  decent. 

So  here  we  close  our  prose  and  rhyme,  and  end  the 
Chrismas  pantomime,  with  wishing  health  and  happy 
cheer,  to  you  through  all  the  coming  year,  and  pros 
perous  times  in  every  State,  for  eighteen  hundred  sixty- 
eight. 


XXVI. 


have  received  from  our  esteemed  friend,  and 
valued  correspondent,  whose  paper  on  the 
champagne  wines  of  the  ancients  excited  so  much  sur 
prise  and  curiosity  in  literary  circles,  another  article 
upon  kindred  topics,  which  will  no  doubt  prove  even 
more  interesting  than  the  former  one.  Embracing,  as 
it  does,  a  wider  range  of  inquiry,  it  exhibits  more  clearly 
than  the  other  paper,  unusual  stores  of  scholarship,  at 
once  comprehensive,  familiar,  and  accurate  ;  a  vigorous 
and  telling  style  —  in  itself  a  model  of  good  English 
writing  ;  a  curious  and  technical  knowledge  of  wines  in 
general,  beyond  that  of  any'  modern  writer  with  whom 
we  are  familiar,  an  exact  knowledge  of  chemistry,  and  a 
happy  vein  of  humor,  as  original  as  it  is  genuine.  It  is 
not  surprising  that  the  authorship  of  the  last  paper 
should  have  been  ascribed  to  several  of  the  most  profound 
scholars  in  the  country.  But  we  can  safely  predicate  of 
this  one  that  it  will  excite  a  still  wider  range  of  specula 
tion  as  to  the  name  of  the  writer,  which,  for  the  present, 

*  See  Preface. 


OXYPOKIAN    WINES.  187 

we  shall  withhold  until  such  time  as  we  are  permitted  to 
print  it. 

THE    LETTEH. 

,  October  5,  I860. 


Mr  DEAR  EDITOR  : — I  have  been  much  amused  in  learning 
through  the  press,  as  well  as  from  the  more  sprightly  narra 
tive  of  your  private  letter,  that  such  and  so  very  odd  claims 
and  conjectures  had  been  made  as  to  the  authorship  of 
my  late  hasty  letter  to  you,  in  proof  that  the  poets  and 
gentlemen  of  old  Greece  and  Rome  drank  as  good 
champagne  as  we  do.  You  know  very  well  that  the 
letter  which  you  published  was  not  originally  meant  for 
the  public,  and  the  public  have  no  right  at  all  to  inquire 
who  the  author  may  be ;  nor,  indeed,  has  the  said  imper 
tinent  public  to  inquire  into  the  authorship  of  any 
anonymous  article  which  harms  nobody,  nor  means  to  do 
so.  I  have  not  sought  concealment  in  this  matter,  nor 
do  I  wish  notoriety.  If  any  one  desires  the  credit  of 
the  communication,  such  as  it  is,  he  or  she  is  quite  wel 
come  to  it  until  I  find  leisure  to  prepare  for  the  press  a 
collection  of  my  Literary  Miscellanies  under  my  own 
name.  I  intend  to  embody  in  it  an  enlarged  edition  of 
this  essay  on  the  antiquity  of  champagne,  mousseux,  with 
a  regular  chain  of  Greek  and  Latin  authorities  defending 
and  proving  all  my  positions. 

To  this  future  collection  of  my  critical  and  philologi 
cal  writings  I  look  forward  with  a  just  pride  as  a  fit  gift 


188  OXYPORIAN    WINES. 

to  the  few  in  our  country  who  occupy  their  leisure,  not 
with  light  and  trifling  literature,  but  on  grave  and  solid 
studies  (like  the  investigation  of  the  Champagne  ques 
tion),  and  with  the  culture  of  high  and  recondite  learning ; 
or,  as  this  thought  is  admirably  expressed  by  Petrarch, 
in  one  of  his  epistles,  announcing  to  a  learned  friend  the 
completion  of  one  of  his  Latin  prose  works,  in  a  pas 
sage  which  I  have  selected  for  the  motto  of  my  own 
Collectanea:  "  Munus  hocce  prebeo,  non  iis  qui  levibus 
et  ludicris  nugis  assueti  sunt,  sed  Iis  quibus  cordi  est, 
gravis  et  severus  bonarum  literarum  et  doctrines  recon 
dite  cultus." 

You  tell  me  that  you  have  every  day  personal  inquiries 
or  written  communications  to  the  Wine  Press,  desiring 
information  as  to  the  meaning  of  the  word  Oxyporian, 
which  I  used  as  characterizing  the  effects  of  certain 
wines.  It  seems  that  the  word  is  in  neither  of  the  rival 
American  dictionaries,  nor  in  any  English  one  in  present 
use.  Of  this  I  was  not  aware,  but  if  it  is  not  in  their 
dictionaries,  so  much  the  worse  for  the  learned  lexi 
cographers.  It  ought  to  have  been  there ;  they  have 
no  excuse  for  omitting  it.  On  the  other  hand,  you  and 
I  deserve  all  such  honor  as  the  literary  and  scientific 
public  can  bestow,  for  restoring  the  word  Oxyporian  to 
the  present  generation.  It  is  a  good  word,  and  one — as 
Corporal  Bardolph  phrases  it — "  of  exceeding  good  com 
mand."  But  I  shall  not  imitate  the  gallant  corporal  in 
his  style  of  definition  and  explanation :  "  Accommodated! 


OXYPOKIAX    WINES.  189 

that  is,  when  a  man  is,  as  they  say,  accommodated ;  or 
when  a  man  is — being — whereby — he  may  be  thought  to 
be  accommodated,  which  is  an  excellent  thing."  That  is 
not  my  fashion.  This  word  OXYPORIAN  is  of  great 
antiquity  and  high  descent.  It  was  first  used  by  Hippo 
crates,  and  from  his  medical  use  passed  to  that  of  the 
philosophers,  thence  into  the  Latin,  and  thence  to  the 
old  English  medical  and  philosophical  writers  down  to 
Sydenham,  since  whose  day  it  has  not  been  used  for  near 
two  centuries.  It  is  from  the  Greek  OZu-xopios  and  means 
simply  that  which  is  of  speedy  operation  and  as  quick  in 
passing  off — first  used  as  a  substantive  name  of  such  a- 
medicine,  then  as  an  adjective  with  a  broader  sense.  I  am 
sorry  that  it  has  gone  out  of  fashion,  for  no  other  word 
can  supply  its  place,  either  for  scientific  or  literary  use. 
The  philosophy  of  the  word,  especially  as  applied  to 
wines,  is  nowhere  better  illustrated  than  by  one  of  the 
old  lost  poets  in  a  fragment  preserved  by  my  favorite 
Athenseus.  The  Athenian  dramatist  Philyllius  thus 
describes  the  Oxyporian  character  and  effects  of  certain 
wines : — 

Take  Thasian,  Cliian,  Meridian  wine, 
Lesbian  old  or  new  Biblyne, 

Differing  all,  but  all  divine — 

• 

Straight  to  the  brain  all  swift  ascend, 
Drive  out  black  thoughts,  bright  fancies  lend, 
Glad  the  whole  man — then  pass  away 
Nor  make  to-morrow  mourn  its  yesterday. 


190  OXYPORIAN    WINES. 

That  last  line  cost  me  more  labor  than  I  have  often 
bestowed  upon  a  whole  lecture,  and  though  it  is  hyper- 
catalectic  with  redundant  syllables,  expressive  enough,  I 
think  of  the  metre  and  feeling  of  the  original,  it  has  not 
done  full  justice  to  the  crowded  thought,  the  practical 
philosophy  of  the  gay  and  wise  old  heathen. 

I  never  read  Athenseus  without  renewed  gratitude  to 
kind  Professor  Schweighauser,  who  first  opened  to  me 
that  treasure-house  of  the  remains  of  ancient  bards, 
"  with  whom  (justly  says  a  modern  critic)  perished  so 
much  beauty  as  the  world  will  never  see  again."  How 
•  fortunate  it  was  that  the  old  Greek  philosophical  diner- 
out  was  as  much  given  to  quotation  as  Montaigne,  Jere 
my  Taylor,  or  myself.  As  for  the  learned  French-German 
or  German-Frenchman,  Schweighauser — the  recollec 
tions  of  my  brief  acquaintance  with  him  rise  in  my  mind 
like  "a  steam  of  rich  distilled  perfumes,"  fraught  with 
the  memory  of  refined  classical  criticism,  and  the  flavor 
of  the  world-renowned  culinary  product  of  his  own 
beloved  city  of  Strasbourg,  the  pate  de  foies  gras. 

But  I  must  not  forget  to  call  your  attention  to  the 
very  curious  parallel  between  this  fragment  of  an  Athen 
ian  dramatic  author  and  Falstaff 's  eulogy  on  the  virtues 
of  his  favorite  sherris-sack.  "  It  hath  a  twofold  operation 
in  it.  It  ascends  me  into  the  brain,  drives  me  forth  all 
the  foolish,  dull  and  crudy  vapors  which  overrun  it, 
makes  it  apprehensive,  quick,  forgetive,  full  of  nimble, 
fiery  and  delectable  shapes."  "  The  second  property  of 


OXYPOEIAN    WINES.  191 

your  excellent  slierris  is  the  warming  of  the  blood,  which 
before  cold  and  settled  left  the  liver  white  and  cold,  but 

the  sherris-sack  warms  it " Yet  why  need  1  quote 

any  more  of  what  you  and  half  your  readers  have  by 
heart.  Now  there  is  not  the  slightest  ground  for  attrib 
uting  this  resemblance  of  thought  and  expression  to 
imitation.  No  (as  I  remarked  in  one  of  my  lectures  on 
the  resemblances  to  be  traced  between  Shakspeare  and 
the  Greek  tragedies),  the  great  ancients  and  this  greater 
modern  coincide  in  thought  because  they  alike  draw  their 
thoughts  from  truth  and  nature  and  the  depths  of  man's 
heart.  The  comparison  of  the  passage  cited  from  Fal- 
staff  and  that  of  which  I  have  above  given  my  feeble 
version,  affords  ample  evidence  of  this.  They  agree 
marvelously  in  describing  the  immediate  operation  of 
the  lighter  Greek  wines,  resembling  our  best  Bordeaux 
and  champagne,  and  that  of  FalstafP s  more  powerful 
and  grave  sherry.  In  this  they  are  equally  true.  But  the 
Greek  goes  on  to  insist  on  the  Oxyporian  worth  of  his 
favorite  wines  in  gladdening  the  whole  man  ' '  with  mirth 
which  after  no  repentance  draws."  Not  so  the  great 
English  poet.  He,  with  a  dietetic  and  physiological 
philosophy  as  profound  and  as  accurate  as  was  his  insight 
into  the  aifeetions  and  passions  of  man,  passes  over  in 
profound  silence  this  point  on  which  the  Greek  bard 
dwells.  This  Shakspeare  does,  not  from  ignorance,  but 
to  lead  the  reader  to  infer  from  Falstaff's  own  infirmities, 
that  such  was  not  the  after-operation  of  Falstaff's  "inor* 


192  OXYPOEIAlSr    WINES. 

dinate  deal  of  sack  " — tliat  his  drink  was  not  Oxyporian 
— that  did  not  pass  away  "like  the  baseless  fabric  of 
a  vision  "  (  and,  to  use  the  words  of  the  great  bard  in  a 
sense  which  he  might  not  immediately  have  intended,  but 
which  was,  nevertheless,  present  to  his  vast  intellect :)— 

"  Leave  not  a  rack  behind." 

The  fat  knight  experienced  to  the  end  of  his  days  the 
slow  but  sure  operation  of  his  profuse  and  potent  beve 
rages,  in  results  from  which  the  judicious  drinker  of  the 
more  delicate  wines  of  modern  France  as  well  as  of 
ancient  Ionia  is  and  was  wholly  exempt. 

But  a  trace  to  ideas  of  past  ages.  Let  me  come  down 
to  our  own  day,  and  give  you  a  practical  example  of  the 
use  and  value  of  this  word  Oxyporian,  and  the  immense 
benefit  which  we  have  conferred  upon  our  own  country 
men,  in  having  thus  followed  the  precept  of  Horace,* 
so  happily  paraphrased  and  adapted  to  modem  speech 
by  Pope :  — 

"  Command  old  words  that  long  have  slept  to  wake, 
Words  that  wise  Bacon  or  brave  Raleigh  spake." 

Such  a  word  was  this  same  Oxyporian.  Now  mark 
its  application. 

•Suppose  that  by  way  of  aiding  and  embellishing  my 

*  Proferet  in  lucem,  speciosa  vocabula  rerum, 
Quse  priscis  memorata  Catonibus  atque  Cethegis, 
Nunc  situs  informU  "nremit  et  deserta  vetustas. 

nor  at.  Epi&t.  it,  L.  v.  116. 


OXYPOKIAN    WINES.  193 

Thanksgiving  family  festivities,  you  present  me  with  a 
basket  or  two  of  sparkling  native  wine  prepared  accord 
ing  to  the  recently  improved  method.  Thereupon  I 
send  you  a  brief  certificate  thus  worded :  — 

"  I  certify  that  I  have  tried  (number  of  bottles  left 
blank)  of  improved  Sparkling  Catawba  on  self,  family, 
and  friends,  and  find  the  same  truly  Oxyporian." 

These  few  words  speak  volumes — a  whole  encyclopedia 
in  that  one  word  Oxyporian.  Even  with  my  humble 
name  thereto  subscribed,  what  an  effect  would  this  pro 
duce!  But  if  in  addition  you  could  prevail  on  our 
mutual  friend,  Dr.  Holmes,  to  concur  with  a  similar 
attestation,  how  that  effect  would  be  multiplied  a  hun 
dred  fold!  The  Professor,  upon  the  exhibition  of  a 
proper  quantum  of  the  last  edition  of  our  best  brands, 
would,  doubtless,  in  the  Macbeth  spirit  of  his  late  anni 
versary  discourse  against  chemicals  and  Galenicals, 
certify  to  this  effect :  — 

"After  repeated  experiments  of  the  wine  to  me  exhib 
ited  by  F.  S.  C.,  being  native  Sparkling  Catawba,  with 
last  improvements,  I  certify  the  same  to  be  eminently 
,  Oxyporian.  Take  this  quant,  suffi.  Repeat  the  draught 
next  day.  '  Throw  physic  to  the  dogs.' " 

"O.  W.  H." 

I  shall  be  much  mistaken  if  such  certificates,   thus 
clear,  strong,  brief;  inspiring  public  confidence  and  pub 
lic  thirst,  would  not  at  once  compel  our  native  cultivators 
to  put  hundreds  of  thousands  of  acres  more  into  grape  cul- 
1ft 


194  OXTPOKIAN    WINES. 

tivation,  and  oblige  the  sole  agent  in  New  York  to  hurry 
A.  T.  Stewart  higher  up  Broadway,  leaving  that  marble 
palace  to  be  converted  into  an  Oxyporian  Hall  for  the 
exclusive  sale  of  Catawba  and  other  Oxyporian  liquids, 
domestic  and  foreign. 

The  same  experiments  might  with  great  propriety, 
and,  doubtless,  with  equal  success,  be  repeated  upon  Dr. 
Holmes  and  myself  with  the  Dido  brand  of  French 
Champagne  when  it  arrives ! 

I  have  just  said  that  I  am  determined  not  to  enter  at 
present  into  verbal  controversy  on  the  accuracy  of  my 
translations  and  citations  on  the  great  question  of  the 
champagne  of  antiquity.  I  leave  all  that  till  my  pro 
posed  publication,  which  I  trust  will  settle  the  question, 
even  against  the  authority  ot  Eustathius  and  Gladstone 
as  to  the  word  ofvoira,  though  the  one  was  a  Greek  Arch 
bishop  eight  hundred  years  ago,  and  the  other  is  the 
present  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer  of  the  British  Em 
pire,  and  has  just  achieved  the  triumph  of  abolishing  the 
duties  on  champagne  and  other  wines  of  France. 

But  I  learn  that  two  other  arguments  have  been  ad 
vanced  against  my  doctrine,  both  from  distinguished 
quarters,  and  both  founded,  not  upon  the  authority  of 
scholiasts  and  lexicons,  but  upon  the  principles  and  reason 
ing  of  the  higher  criticism. 

The  first  of  these  is  advanced  by  President  King,  of 
your  New  York  Columbia  College.  His  objection  to  my 
argument  is  briefly  this :  If  either  the  Greeks  or  the 


OXYPORIAN    WINES.  195 

Romans  had  champagne,  Horace  must  have  taken  his 
share,  and  luxuriated  in  recounting  its  merits  and  glories. 
As  Horace  makes  not  even  a  distant  allusion  to  any  wine 
of  this  kind,  no  such  can  have  been  in  use  in  his  days. 
I  have  a  great  respect  for  President  King's  judgment, 
both  in  respect  to  champagne  and  to  Horace ;  and  his 
argument  is  logical  in  form  and  plausible  in  reasoning. 
Still  this  must  have  been  an  obiter  dictum  of  his  (as  the 
lawyers  say),  not  a  formal  decision,  such  as  he  would 
have  given  on  full  argument  and  examination  of  the 
authorities.  I  think  that  I  can  convince  the  President  of 
the  error  of  his  argument ;  and  considering  the  magnitude 
of  the  question,  and  the  responsibilities  of  his  position, 
I  am  confident  that  he  has  too  much  candor  to  persist  in 
his  error  after  duly  weighing  my  reasoning. 

I  object  entirely  to  Horace's  testimony — to  his  compe 
tence — if  he  is  offered  as  an  expert  in  wine ;  but  if  he  is 
regarded  as  an  ordinary  witness  to  facts,  then  to  the 
credibility,  weight,  or  value  of  his  negative  testimony. 
This  objection  arises  from  no  general  disrespect  to  his 
character  or  talent.  I  am  far  from  agreeing  with  an 
accomplished  professor  of  your  city,  whom  I  might  ad 
dress  in  the  words  of  Horace> 

"Docte  sermones  utriusque  linguae," 

as  master  alike  of  the  tongue  of  Shakspeare  and  of  that 
of  Schiller.*  I  cannot  agree  with  him  in  vilipending 

*  Dr.  Francis  Lieber.    Ed. 


196  OXYPORIAl*    WINES. 

Horace — to  use  a  word  of  Charles  Fox's,  which  I  fancy 
has  not  been  used  since  his  days.  I  was  told  lately,  at  a 
literary  party  in  Boston,  by  an  eminent  fellow-citizen  of 
yours,  that  this  accomplished  New  York  professor  had 
pronounced  Horace  to  be  "a  mediocre  old  fogy."  So 
do  not  I. 

As  a  keen-sighted  observer  and  describer  of  men  and 
manners,  full  of  shrewd  good  sense  and  worldly  wisdom, 
Horace  has  no  rival ;  and  the  unanswerable  proof  of  it 
is  that  his  thoughts  and  maxims,  and  even  language,  on 
such  topics,  have  been  incorporated  into  the  thoughts, 
language,  and  best  literature  of  all  modern  nations.  In 
pure  poetry,  his  patriotic  pride  and  ardent  love  of  country 
often  raise  him  to  the  noblest  strains  of  lyric  declamation. 
Above  all,  he  has  an  unrivaled  power  of  natural  but  con 
densed  expression,  compressing  whole  pages  of  thought, 
or  of  description  of  nature,  of  form  or  of  manner,  into 
a  short  phrase  or  a  brilliant  word  or  two.  On  some 
other  points  I  nearly  agree  with  your  professor,  who  is  as 
polyglot  in  knowledge  as  he  is  in  languages.  Horace's 
lore-verses  I  hold  very  cheap.  In  these  he  is  indeed 
graceful,  courtly,  airy,  elegant ;  but  he  has  little  passion 
and  no  tenderness.  If  he  ever  approaches  to  any  sem 
blance  of  either  passion  or  affection,  it  is  when  he  trans 
lates  or  imitates  the  Greek,  to  which  source  late  German 
critics  have  traced  not  a  few  of  his  minor  lyric  beauties, 
and  made  it  probable  that  he  owed  more  than  can  now 
be  clearly  ascertained.  The  other  line,  in  which  I  hold 


OXYPORIAN    WINES.  197 

him  to  be  still  more  clumsy  and  out  of  his  element,  is  that 
which  specially  relates  to  our  present  purpose.  It  is  that 
which  he  often  affects,  and  affects  with  little  success,  the 
gaiety  of  the  Bacchanalian  songster.  In  nearly  every 
one  of  his  convivial  odes  he  is  as  far  as  possible  from  the 
light  gaiety  or  the  broad  jollity  of  such  poets  as  Burns 
or  Beranger,  and  a  dozen  Scotch  and  Irish  songsters  of 
far  less  name  but  of  scarcely  less  merit.  In  his  desperate 
attempts  at  jollity,  his  constant  incentive  to  festivity — 
which  seems  to  mean,  with  him,  nothing  but  hard  drink 
ing — is  the  shortness  of  human  life  and  the  black  prospect 
of  death,  so  that  his  festive  odes  may  be  condensed  into 
the  thought  of  Captain  Macheath,  in  the  Beggar's  Opera : 

"  A  man  will  die  bolder  with  brandy." 

Much  as  in  his  "Moriture  Delli,"  etc.,  he  is  inferior 
to  the  gay  songsters  of  later  times,  he  appears  still  worse 
when  any  of  his  scenes  of  conviviality  are  compared 
with  those  of  Shakspeare,  of  Cervantes,-  or  of  Scott, 
with  the  feasts  of  Falstaff,  of  Sancho,  or  of  Friar  Tuck. 

If  I  compare  Horace  with  these  moderns,  it  is  because 
the  contrast  is  more  striking  from  our  familiarity  with 
the  latter.  But  the  same  thing  might  be  shown  to 
scholars  by  placing  him  by  the  side  of  Plutus,  or  of  the 
remains  of  Greek  comedy.  The  truth  is,  that  Horace, 
with  all  his  love  of  company,  his  shrewd  observation  of 
life,  his  keen  perception  of  the  ridiculous,  was  decidedly 
a  melancholy  man.  I  do  not  believe  that  in  his  most 


198  OXYPOEIAN    WINES. 

convivial  hours,  he  ever  rung  out  that  hearty  peal  of 
laughter  for  which  Walter  Scott  was  celebrated ;  nor  was 
Horace,  in  those  solitary  rambles  of  his  about  the  shops, 
markets  and  by-places  of  Rome,  which  he  so  agreeably 
relates,  ever  seen  smiling  and  chuckling  to  himself,  over 
nis  own  thick-coming  pleasant  fancies,  like  your  Halleck, 
when  amusing  himself  in  the  same  fashion  in  his  frequent 
visits  to  Boston  or  New  York. 

Yes,  Horace  was  clearly  as  melancholy  a  man,  when 
by  himself,  as  Lord  Byron  was,  and  for  tjie  same  reason, 
a  stomach  performing  its  functions  badly,  and  stimulated 
in  the  one  case  by  Falernian,  in  the  other  by  strong  gin 
and  water. 

Horace  himself,  unconsciously,  shows  us  the  philosophy 
of  all  this,  in  the  account  which  he  gives  here  and  there 
of  his  own  history.  He  had  led  a  pretty  hard,  promis 
cuous  sort  of  a  life  in  his  early  days  of  inglorious  and 
disastrous  military  rank.  Afterward  he  got  up  in  the 
world,  and  became  the  holder  of  a  comfortable  office,  of 
more  profit  than  honor ;  and  then,  by  the  favor  of  his 
friends  in  power,  became  a  well-to-do  country  gentleman. 
Next  we  find  him  suffering  the  certain  penalties  of  an 
early  debauched  and  chronically  debilitated  stomach. 
He  had  weak  eyes,  and  a  deranged  digestion,  the  first 
being  the  natural  result  of  the  other  malady.  He  at 
times  resorted  to  total  abstinence  and  cold  water,  and 
became  a  great  critic  in  good  water,  in  which  last  partic 
ular  he  showed  his  usual  practical  good  sense.  He  was 


OXYPOBIAN    WINES.  199 

constantly  running  about,  as  he  tells  us,  from  the  plain 
fare  of  his  Sabine  farm  to  Rome,  where  he  shared  the 
luxurious  table  of  Maecenas.  Thence  he  galloped  off  to 
Baiae,  the  Newport  of  that  day ;  then  from  one  mineral 
spring  to  another ;  now  dosing  himself  with  chalybeate, 
now  with  sulphur  water.  But  all  this  water  regimen  is 
interspersed  with  frolic  after  frolic  in  old  Falernian.  His 
love  of  Falernian  flashes  the  whole  truth  upon  us.  What 
was  this  famed  Falernian  wine  f  It  was,  unquestionably, 
a  rich,  high-flavored  wine,  but  as  unquestionably  most 
highly  brandied,  decidedly  fortified  with  an  enormous 
proportion  of  alcohol,  nearly  bringing  it  up  to  the  proof 
of  our  most  approved  old  Cognac.  The  commentators 
and  compilers  of  antiquities  do  not  let  us  into  the  secret 
of  this  same  famed  Falernian.  But  I  speak  on  the  very 
best  authority.  It  is  that  of  Pliny  the  naturalist. 

In  speaking  of  the  strong  Eoman  wines,  he  says  of  the 
Falernian  varieties,  in  a  customary  phrase  of  his,  that 
there  is  no  wine  of  higher  authority,  "  JSTec  ulli  in  vino 
major  auctoritas."  He  then  adds,  that  it  was  inflamma 
ble!  and  the  only  wine  that  was  so:  "Solo  vinornm 
flamma  accenditur."  "It  is  the  only  kind  from  which 
flame  can  be  kindled."  The  ancients  had  no  more  pre 
cise  test  than  this  one,  that  of  burning  with  a  flame,  to 
ascertain  the  proportion  of  alcohol  in  these  liquors.  They 
had  nothing  similar  to  the  various  beautiful  modes  of 
modern  chemistry,  to  ascertain  the  alcoholic  proportions 
of  wine  as  the  eboulliscope  of  the  French  chemists,  the 


200  OXYPORIA]Sr    WINES. 

halymetric  method  used  by  Fuchs  and  Zieri,  and  the 
ingenious  aerometer  of  Tabaric,  all  which  give  such 
elegant  precision  to  the  alcoholic  tables,  digested  and 
enlarged  by  our  exact  Dutch  friend,  Professor  Mulder. 
But  Pliny's  statement  is  enough  to  prove  that  the  strength 
of  Falernian  did  not  arise  from  "combined  alcohol" 
formed  in  the  natural  process  of  fermentation  of  the 
grape  juice,  but  from  added  "uncombined  alcohol"  (as 
the  chemists  term  it)  produced  by  distillation.  On  this 
very  question,  I  cannot  refrain  from  quoting  the  opinion 
of  Dr.  Watson,  of  New  York,  in  his  most  agreeable, 
learned  and  instructive  work  on  "  The  Medical  Profession 
in  Ancient  Times,"  a  volume  which,  if  it  had  been  pub 
lished  in  London,  would  have  been  reprinted  in  the 
United  States,  and  had  a  circulation  of  thousands.  I 
copy  from  the  volume  on  my  table  which  I  have  just  read 
with  much  gratification  to  myself,  and  the  highest  respect 
for  the  author's  science  and  scholarship. 

After  quoting  Pliny,  he  says,  "  modern  wines  with 
only  their  natural  supply  of  alcohols  are  not  of  strength 
equal  to  this.  That  is  the  Falernian.  It  is  therefore 
reasonable  to  infer  that  the  art  of  distillation  must  have 
been  known  to  the  vintners  of  antiquity.  If  so,  it  must 
have  been  confined  to  some  fraternity  and  practiced  by 
them  as  one  of  their  secret  mysteries,  for  the  purpose  of 
fortifying  their  wines,  and  thus  kept  secret  until  alcohol 
was  discovered  anew  by  the  alchemists  of  the  middle  ages." 

Such  was  Falernian,   differing  only  from  our  Cognac 


OXYPOKIAN    WINES.  201 

brandy  from  having  a  full  vinous  body  with  a  luscious 
fruity  flavor. 

This  exposition  of  the  true  character  of  Falernian  at 
once  explains  and  is  confirmed  by  the  fact  that  Horace 
often  in  his  exhortations  to  the  hardest  drinking,  speaks 
of  some  rules  of  mixing  water  with  the  Falernian,  which 
no  Greek  or  Roman  author  meritions  as  usual  as  to  other 
wines,  excepting  only  certain  Greek  wines  of  a  similar 
potency. 

All  the  above  stated  considerations  prove  to  my  satis 
faction  (and  I  trust  also  to  that  of  President  King)  that 
Horace,  with  all  his  matchless  merits,  was  exactly  in  the 
state  of  certain  of  our  mutual  acquaintances,  some  of 
whom,  men  of  the  prairie  or  of  the  plantation,  alternate 
between  "total  abstinence"  and  unquenchable  thirst  for 
Bourbon  and  Monongahela;  others,  again,  habitues  of 
city  clubs  and  hotels,  vibrate  between  soda  or  congress 
water,  and  old  Otard,  or  Geneva,  more  or  less  diluted 
with  water ;  generally  less  than  more,  and  every  day  be 
coming  more  and  more  less. 

Now  to  the  inference  from  this  statement  of  facts: 
Would  you,  Mr.  President,  or  you,  Mr.  Editor,  take  the 
opinion  or  the  evidence  of  any  such,  of  our  acquaintance, 
though  we  should  receive  it  with  all  respect  on  any  other 
point,  political,  commercial,  or  financial — upon  any 
question  touching  champagne.  You  would  not  ?  Neither 
do  I  accept  Horace's  testimony  on  the  same  subject. 

I  learn  that  I  have  to  meet  another  argument,  leveled 


202  OXYPORIAN    WINES. 

at  my  Homeric  interpretation,  of  the  word  commonly 
rendered  "dark,"  which  T  hold  to  mean  "champagne- 
faced,"  or  covered  with  foam  like  champagne.  This  is 
from  another  dignitary  of  learning,  not  of  your  city, 
whose  high  scholarship  is  everywhere  admitted.  He  is 
armed  with  the  authority  and  clothed  with  the  dignity  of 
Jupiter,  yet  I  cannot  say  with  the  Italian  chief, — 

"Dii  me  terrent,  et  Jupiter  hostis." 
"  The  powers  above  I  dread,  and  hostile  Jove." 

No,  even  against  Jupiter,  I  reply,  — 

"  Thrice  is  he  armed,  who  hath  his  quarrel  just" 

and  I  am  thrice  armed  in  the  cause  of  truth  and  of 
Homer. 

As  in  respect  to  Horace,  so  in  this  Homeric  question, 
I  defer  for  the  present  all  mere  verbal  and  lexicographi 
cal  disquisition.  My  future  readers  will  have  quite 
enough  of  it  in  my  forthcoming  volumes.  But  I  willingly 
meet  the  great  argument  of  my  very  learned  and  eminent 
critic,  as  it  claims  to  rest  upon  broad,  historical  and 
critical  grounds. 

He  boldly  maintains  that  Homer  could  not  have  known 
personally  anything  of  champagne — even  supposing  that 
there  was  anything  resembling  it  in  his  day — that 
throughout  his  two  epics  he  never  intimates  in  himself  or 
in  his  heroes  any  taste  or  connoisseurship  in  wine,  though 
he  describes  the  drinking  of  a  good  deal  of  it,  to  which 
he  gives  various  indiscriminating  epithets,  as  "pleasant," 


OXYPOEIAN    WINES.  203 

"  sweet, "  ' '  divine, "  '  *  dark,  "or  "  red. "  Above  all,  it  is 
asserted  that  he  betrays  the  grossest  ignorance  on  its  use 
in  making  his  venerable  Nestor  (who  should  have  known 
better)  mix  grated  cheese  with  his  old  Pramnian  wine. 

Before  entering  on  the  wider  field  of  discussion,  I  must 
briefly  refute  this  last  wholly  unsound  objection.  It  is 
easily  and  quickly  done.  Any  reader  who  will  carefully 
read  the  whole  of  the  eleventh  book  of  the  Iliad,  either 
in  the  original  or  in  any  tolerably  faithful  translation — 
even  in  Pope's  brilliant  but  commonly  loose  paraphrase — 
will  see  at  once  that  this  preparation  of  old  wine,  thick 
ened  with  grated  goat's  milk  cheese,  and  flour,  which 
Nestor  took  with  his  wounded  friend  after  their  escape 
from  battle,  was  clearly  a  medical  prescription  prepared 
under  the  professional  direction  of  Machaon,  who  was 
surgeon-general  of  the  Greek  allied  army,  as  well  as 
commanding  colonel  of  his  own  and  his  brother's  contin 
gent.  Machaon  had  a  flesh  wound ;  Nestor,  a  very  old 
man,  was  prostrated  by  fatigue  and  fright. 

The  word  used  is  xbxswv,  meaning  a  compound  potion, 
and  Pope  with  far  more  precision  than  is  usual  with  him, 
renders  it  "the  draught  prescribed."  I  cannot  help 
thinking  that  this  happy  version  was  suggested  to  the 
poet  by  his  scholarly  medical  friend  Dr.  Arbuthnot,  to 
whom  he  and  Swift  often  expressed  their  warm  acknowl- 
sdgments  for  services,  medical,  literary,  and  social : — 

" the  kind  Arbuthnofs  aid, 

Who  knows  his  art,  but  not  his  trade." 


204:  OXYPORIAN    WINES. 

Dr.  Holmes  may  very  probably  sneer  at  the  prescribed 
mixture,  and  I  will  not  pretend  to  defend  it,  for  that  is 
not  in  my  line.  But  Machaon  was  a  physician  of  great 
eminence  in  his  day,  and  seems  to  have  anticipated  the 
doctrines  of  Brown  or  of  Broussais,  and  to  have  been 
inclined  to  a  bold  practice  in  stimulants.  As  a  surgeon, 
he  stood  at  the  very  head  of  his  profession.  Besides, 
this  was  his  prescription  for  himself,  as  well  as  for  his 
friend  ^  and  when  the  physician  thus  shares  with  his  pa 
tient  the  risk  or  the  benefit  of  his  potion,  even  Dr. 
Holmes,  heretic  in  medical  faith  as  he  is,  will  allow  that 
the  patient  may  venture  boldly  to  swallow  whatever  may 
be  ordered.  I  trust  that  Dr.  Watson  will  discuss  this 
whole  question  in  the  next  edition  of  his  Medical  Pro 
fession  in  Ancient  Times.  In  the  meanwhile,  enough 
has  been  said  to  exonerate  both  Homer  and  the  Pylian 
sage  from  the  charge  of  heathenish  ignorance  in  regard 
to  wine. 

Indeed  as  to  Nestor,  even  if  the  poet's  frequent  testi 
monials  in  the  Hiad  to  his  wisdom  and  vast  knowledge 
earned  by  old  experience,  are  not  enough  to  exempt  him 
from  any  suspicion  of  gross  ignorance  in  respect  to  good 
wine,  he  himself  has  given  ample  proof  of  his  tas'e  and 
judgment  in  such  matters  in  the  Odyssey.  When  the 
son  of  Ulysses,  in  that  epic,  visits  Nestor  at  his  home  in 
Pylos,  he  finds  the  aged  chief  presiding  at  a  grand  sacri 
fice  and  banquet.  Before  Nestor  knows  who  his  guest  is 
he  greets  him  kindly,  and  besides  ordering  for  him  and 


OXYPORIAN    WINES.  205 

his  friend  a  choice  portion  of  the  feast,  gives  them  a 
goblet  bumper  of  Malmsey  Madeira. 

Here  I  must  pause  and  explain,  to  prevent  the  barking 
of  small  critics.  Homer  calls  the  wine  neMetiyq — "honey- 
sweet  " — which  proves  it  to  have  been  a  luscious,  sweet, 
fruity  wine ;  and  all  who  are  at  all  learned  in  the  history 
of  grape  culture  know  that  the  Malmsey  of  Madeira  is 
the  product*  of  a  vine  in  Madeira,  originally  imported 
from  the  district  of  Malvasia,  in  the  Peloponesus,  which 
lay  within  Nestor's  own  territory.  From  Malvasia  came 
the  Spanish  and  Portuguese  name  of  the  wine,  Malvasio ; 
thence  the  old  French  Malvoisie,  and  thence  Malmsey  > 
Pardon  this  apparent  pedantry ;  the  digression  is  forced 
upon  me.  Nestor  gives  his  unknown  guests,  with  all  the 
rest  of  the  crowd,  plenty  of  new,  pleasant,  and  sweet 
Malmsey  of  his  own  growth ;  but  afterward,  when  he 
knew  that  the  son  of  his  old  friend  was  his  guest,  he 
gives  him  a  more  select  entertainment  with  his  family :— 

"  Filling  high  the  cups 


With  wine  delicious,  which  the  butler-dame 
Who  kept  his  stores,  in  its  eleventh  year, 
Now  first  did  broach." 

In  that  compound  of  my  own  manufacture,  ' '  Butler- 
dame,"  I  have  aimed  at  clearly  defining  the  office  con- 
tided  to  confidential  old  ladies  in  well-regulated  house 
holds  in  Greece,  like  Nestor's.  Homer  in  his  original 
Greek  expresses  the  office,  here  and  in  seven  or  eight 
other  places  by  the  female  substantive  Tafit^.  The  Eng- 


206  OXYPOKIAN    WINES. 

lish  and  French  translators  all  omit  or  slur  it  over,  as  if 
it  was  not  genteel  to  have  a  female  butler.  The  German 
translators  on  the  contrary,  honestly  use  the  resources 
of  their  noble  language,  as  copious  and  flexible  as  the 
Greek,  in  its  compounds,  but  give  a  rather  broader  sense, 
by  die  haus-hof  meisterin.  But  I  was  not  aware  till 
after  I  had  made  my  translation  that  the  best  Dutch 
translator, — the  illustrious  Vondel,  theDryden  of  Holland, 
had  formed  a  word  of  his  own  precisely  parallel  to  my 
own,  though  more  sonorous  and  musical,  ' '  de  schencfoter- 
vrouw.  But  I  must  restrain  myself  on  these  tempting 
verbal  digressions  (as  I  have  done  in  my  classical  quota 
tions),  lest  I  should  incur  the  Shakspearean  sarcasm,  he 
"has  been  at  a  great  feast  of  languages  and  stolen  the 
scraps."  Let  us  return  to  Nestor. 

Nestor  never  dreamed  of  giving  his  guests  wine-whey, 
such  as  he  had  taken,  according  to  prescription,  nor  does 
he  offer  them  any  grated  cheese  to  mix  with  their  new 
Malmsey,  or  their  eleven  years'  old  Pylian  Particular. 

Then,  as  to  Homer's  personal  opportunities  of  becom 
ing  practically  familiar  with  the  good  wines  of  his  times, 
is  it  possible  that  my  erudite  critic  imagines  Homer  to 
have  led  a  straggling  beggar-like  life,  like  an  Italian 
organ-grinder?  The  great  bard  has  himself  described 
his  own  status  and  habitual  life  in  the  picture  he  gives  of 
the  blind  bard  Domodoius,  and  the  respect  with  which 
he  is  received,  and  the  luxury  he  shares  in  at  the  sump 
tuous  court  of  the  good  king  Alcinous.  Like  him  Ho- 


OXYPOKIAN    WINES.  207 

mer  himself  passed  from  the  table  of  one  king,  prince, 
potentate  or  laird  to  that  of  another,  faring  sumptuously 
every  day,  and  thus  becoming  as  familiar  with  the  qualities 
of  the  several  Chian,  Lesbian,  Thrasian,  Pramnian  and 
Pyiian  vintages,  as  our  acquaintance  Thackeray  did  with 
the  old  Madeiras  of  Boston,  Salem,  Richmond,  and 
Charleston,  or  the  choice  Bordeaux  and  Rhine  wines  of 
recherche  tables  in  New  York. 

I  might  quote  an  hundred  scattered  lines  in  the  Iliad  to 
prove  this.  But  why  dwell  upon  minor  points  of  evidence  ? 
"The  greatest  is  behind."  While  Homer  ascribes  this 
good  taste  and  knowledge  of  good  wine  to  his  wisest  old 
man,  has  he  not  distinguished  that  hero,  who  is  second 
only  in  rank  to  Achilles,  by  his  taste  and  judgment  in  the 
same  line  ?  Do  not  the  plot  and  the  interest  of  the  second 
great  epic  depend  mainly  upon  this  characteristic  of  its 
hero,  and  the  just  pride  he  feels  in  his  good  cellar  ? 

Alas !  I  ask  these  questions  as  if  the  answer  was 
familiar  to  all  who  read  Homer  even  in  the  translations 
of  Pope  or  Cowper.  Alas !  alas !  I  do  not  know  that  a 
single,  critic,  or  annotator,  has  explained — any  Greek  in 
structor  or  professor  here  or  even  in .  Germany  has  made 
his  students  familiar  with  this  great  feature  of  Homer's 
domestic  epic,  the  Odyssey,  and  of  its  hero  Ulysses. 

Nevertheless,  the  filial  piety  of  Virgil's  ^Eneas — the 
deep  melancholy  love  of  Tasso's  Tancredi — the  "noble 
mind,"  "the  courtier's,  scholar's,  soldier's  eye,  tongue, 
sword,"  of  the  accomplished  Hamlet  are  none  of  them 


208  OXYPORIAN    WINES. 

so  essential  a  part  of  these  several  characters  and  of  their 
eventful  stories,  as  are  to  the  character  and  story  of 
Ulysses,  his  taste  and  skill  in  wine,  his  judgment  in  its 
management  and  use,  and  the  deep  interest  which  he 
manifests  in  his  own  fine  and  carefully  selected  stock. 

In  the  very  beginning  of  the  Odyssey,  before  Ulysses 
himself  appears  on  the  scene,  the  poet,  to  make  his  reader 
acquainted  with  his  hero's  character,  introduces  him  into 
the  wine-room  of  the  long-absent  chief.  It  is  quite 
worthy  of  remark  that  he  is  the  only  king  or  chief  men 
tioned  in  either  great  epic,  except  Nestor,  who  had  a 
regular,  well-ordered  wine-room,  or  cellar.  These  few 
chiefs,  I  must  remind  rny  readers,  are  repeatedly  desig 
nated  by  the  great  poet,  as  the  wisest  of  all  the  Greeks, 
so  adjudged  by  the  common  voice — Nestor,  from  his  va 
ried  experience  and  the  collected  wisdom  he  had  gathered 
during  the  few  generations  of  men  among  whom  he  had 
lived.  Ulysses,  from  his  own  native  sagacity.  No  other 
Greeks  compared  with  them  either  in  general  wisdom, 
or  in  judgment  in  the  choice  or  care  of  their  wines. 

Achilles,  for  instance,  was  a  model  of  gentlemanly 
hospitality,  carved  beautifully,  and  gave  his  guests  the 
best  wine  that  force  or  money  could  get ;  but  he  had  no 
stock  of  it,  and  did  not  know  how  to  manage  it,  if  he  had 
it.  Not  so  the  "much-contriving"  Ulysses. 

Before  Ulysses  enters  upon  the  scene,  his  son,  Telema- 
elms  is  described  as  preparing  for  a  secret  voyage  in 
search  of  his  long-absent  father,  and  this  affords  Homer 


OXTPOEIAN    WINES.  1}09 

an  opportunity  to  paint  in  anticipation,  though  indi 
rectly,  the  most  striking  peculiarities  of  his  hero.  His 
cellar,  or  wine-room  (for  it  appears  to  have  been  above 
ground,  though  on  the  ground-floor),  is  superintended, 
like  that  of  Nestor,  by  an  aged  female  butler.  I  am  not 
quite  satisfied  with  any  translator,  and  I  render  the  lines 
thus : — 

"  Down  to  a  broad,  high  room,  the  youth  descends, 
His  father's  store-room,  where  his  treasures  lay 
There  stood  against  the  wall,  in  order  ranged, 
Casks  of  age-ripened  wine,  fit  for  the  gods, 
The  grape's  pure  juice,  from  every  mixture  free." 

The  good  young  man,  who  had  been  well  brought  up 
by  his  mother,  according  to  his  father's  precepts  and 
example,  thus  gave  order  touching  the  providing  for  his 
ship  :  — 

"  Fill  up  these  demijohns  ;  draw  off  bright  wine— 
Our  best,  next  after  that  thou  dost  reserve 
Hapless  Ulysses,  still  expecting  home ; 
If,  death  escaping,  he  shall  e'er  return, 
Fill  twelve,  then  fit  them  all  with  stoppers  tight." 

I  translate  as  literally  as  metre  will  permit,  in  honest, 
"English  verse,  without  rhyme"  (as  Milton  phrases  it), 
in  the  hope  of  preserving  these  minutely  graphic  touches 
of  the  great  poet,  who  always  narrates  to  the  eye,  and 
in  turn  displays  "la  terribil  via"  the  grand  and  terrible 
manner  of  Michael  Angelo,  or  the  grace,  dignity  and 
i  A 


210  OXYPORIAN    WIXKS. 

expression  of  Raphael,  and  then  rivals  the  most  pains 
taking  Dutch  or  Flemish  painter  in  his  careful  details  of 
the  butchery,  the  barn-yard,  the  market,  the  kitchen  or 
the  wine  cellar. 

I  flatter  myself  that  in  spite  of  the  obvious  difficulty 
of  such  passages,  I  have,  in  the  above  and  my  other 
scraps  of  Homeric  versions,  succeeded  in  expressing  some 
exquisite  details  which  Pope's  rhymes  have  polished  into 
vague  smoothness,  and  Cowper's  more  faithful,  but  too 
uniformly  Miltonic,  blank  verse  has  failed  to  render. 

After  this  preliminary  sketch  of  the  "many  planning" 
Ulysses,  we  find  him  everywhere  taking  his  wine  like  a 
gentleman,  never  in  any  excess,  but  always  with  good 
taste,  whether  at  the  table  of  the  magnificent  king  of 
Pharacia  or  at  the  humble  fireside  of  the  keeper  of  his 
own  hogs.  He  avoids  the  snares  of  Circe  by  refusing  to 
drink  her  brewed  and  drugged  liquor.  When  he  ex 
plored  the  land  of  the  Cyclops,  he  took  with  him  a  goat 
skin  of  high  proof  brandy,  given  him  by  the  priest  of 
Apollo,  which  he  used  only  in  case  of  accidents.  I  say 
"BRANDY;"  for  though  Homer  calls  it  wine,  that  must 
have  been  from  delicacy  toward  the  reverend  gentleman, 
for  the  poet  expressly  says  that  the  worthy  priest  and  hia 
wife  were  wont  :  — 


"  Whene'er  they  quaffed  that  dark,  delicious  j 
To  slake  each  cup  with  twenty  from  the  fount, 
Yet  the  slaked  bowl  sweet  odor  shed  around, 
Divine,  enticing." 


OXYPORIAN    WrXES.  211 


Arxother  proof  of  the  true  nature  of  this  "wine,"  as 
Homer  delicately  calls  it,  is  to  be  seen  in  the  care  with 
which  the  good  priest  kept  it  out  of  the  way  of  all  his 
servants,  reserving  it  for  the  private  drinking  of  himself 
and  wife,  of  course  in  all  moderation. 

"•Of  that  pure  drink,  fit  for  the  gods,  no  one 
Of  all  his  household,  male  or  female  knew, 
Save  only  he,  his  wife  and  butler-dame." 

By  the  way,  this  priest  of  Apollo  seems  to  have  been 
a  sort  of  prince-bishop,  keeping  a  large  establishment  of 
men  and  women  servants.  Yet  he,  too,  like  Nestor  and 
Ulysses,  put  his  choice  liquors  and  stores  under  the  care 
of  a  butleress,  or,  as  I  have  preferred  to  render  it  in  a 
more  Homeric  phrase,  and  in  the  spirit  of  the  Greek 
compound,  a  Butler-dame. 

But  Ulysses  took  none  of  this  brandy  himself,  nor  gave 
it  to  his  men,  but  when  he  got  into  a  scrape  with  the 
giant  Cyclops,  he  dosed  the  huge  cannibal  with  it  quite 
raw,  which  soon  made  him  tipsy  (or,  as  the  original  ex 
presses  it  with  philosophical  accuracy  "came  around  his 
brain,")  then  puts  him  to  sleep,  when  Ulysses  puts  out 
his  great  single  eye,  and  escapes. 

When  he  reaches  home  incog.,  he  learns  with  indigna 
tion  the  suit  of  the  petty  chiefs  of  Ithaca  to  his  supposed 
widow,  their  wasteful  depredations  upon  his  goods  and 
chattels,  especially  his  cattle  and  hogs,  and  their  insults 
to  his  only  son  ;  but  he  does  not  explode  in  full  wrath  till 
he  hears  of  the  wasteful  abuse  of  his  wines  —  the 


212  OXTIORIAN    WINES. 

8ia<£v<rcrfyt£i/ov  (as  he  says  with  the  precision  of  a  carefiil  wine 
merchant),  his  good  wine  "drawn  off."  This  he  de 
nounces  as  the  "  unkindest  cut  of  all."  He  successively 
recounts  his  wrongs  from  the  suitors  of  his  wife :  — 

"  Their  Shameless  acts,  guests  roughly  drawn  away 
Through  all  the  house,  gross  insults  to  the  maids, 
Provision  gormandized  day  after  day  : 
Tlie  wine  drawn  off !  drunk  up  with  monstrous  waste, 
Enormous,  without  stint,  or  taste,  or  end." 

Od.  XVL 

I  have  not  time  nor  space  to  note  his  other  expressions 
of  wrath  on  the  same  topic. 

It  is,  therefore,  with  admirable  fitness  that  the  poet 
makes  Ulysses  defer  the  hour  of  his  final  vengeance  till 
he  sees  his  palace  filled  with  revelry,  and  the  wine  cup 
crowned  with  his  own  best  vintages,  lifted  high  and  passed 
around  by  the  insolent  invaders  of  his  home  and  his 
honor.  Then  it  is,  when  the  loudest  and  boldest  of  these 
revelers  lifts  to  his  head  a  huge  two-handled  goblet  of 
choice  "  Ithaca  Reserve"  that  he,  who  had  long  watched 
these  scenes  in  suppressed  wrath,  and  in  the  guise  and 
garb  of  a  beggar,  now  "throws  off  his  patience  and 
his  rags  together,"  rises  from  the  mendicant  into  the 
monarch,  and  from  his  mighty  bow  showers  around  winged 
arrowy  vengeance  upon  the  wretches  who  had  essayed  to 
win  the  affections  of  his  wife,  who  had  plundered  his 
possessions,  who  had  wronged  and  insulted  his  darling 
only  son,  and  who  had  swilled,  without  appreciating  it, 


OXYPORIAN    WINES.  213 

pipe  after  pipe  of  his  much  prized  wine,  all  of  it  carefully 
selected,  in  splendid  condition,  and  most  of  it  more  than 
twenty  years  old. 

And  this  is  the  Homer  who  had  no  taste,  judgment, 
feeling,  or  knowledge  in  wine ! 

But  I  have  said  more  than  enough  on  these  topics. 
Those  who  wish  to  know  still  more  on  them  must  be  con 
tent  to  wait  until  the  publication  of  my  "Lectures  on 
Homeric  Literature,"  unless,  indeed,  I  should  find  time 
to  comply  with  the  urgent  solicitations  of  your  great  pub 
lishers — the  Appletons — and  supply  the  article  Ulysses 
for  the  American  Cyclopaedia.  I  have  done  with  all 
journalistic  controversy.  I  have  floored  my  adversaries, 
and  may  now  say  like  Virgil's  veteran  pugilist :  — 

"  Hie  victor  cestus  artemque,  repono ;" 

or,  as  I  have  rendered  the  line  in  my  yet  unpublished 
translation  of  Virgil  :  — 

"  Still  Victor,  Champion,  now  with  pride 
My  »tience  and  my  gloves  I  lay  aside." 

Very  truly  your  friend. 


XXVII. 

Brama. 


)OW  I  came  to  take  a  fancy  to  do  it  I  do  not  know, 
but  I  always  did  have  a  fancy  for  the  stage.  So 
at  the  early  age  of  say  ten,  or  it  might  have  been 
eleven,  more  or  less,  I  was  the  owner  of  a  theatre,  and 
manager  of  a  company,  with  scenery,  properties,  flies,  flats, 
wings,  traps,  and  all  the  equipments,  gear  and  rigging 
necessary  to  produce  a  play  in  superior  style.  The  pro 
scenium  was  a  very  grand  affair,  rich  in  red  curtains  and 
gilt  side-boxes,  and  the  arch  over  the  centre  laid  off  in 
gorgeous  panels  of  blue  and  gamboge.  The  side-scenes 
and  flats  were  by  Mr.  Figg,  No.  11  Qheapside,  London, 
and  the  performers  were  also  by  the  same  eminent  artist  : 
in  sheets,  sixpence,  plain  ;  one  shilling,  colored. 

Didn't  I  make  a  mistake  when  I  bought  the  plain 
sheets  and  undertook  to  color  them  myself?  Why,  it  was 
not  in  the  capacity  of  a  boy's  paint-box  to  put  such  colors 
on  the  characters  as  those  done  at  the  London  establish 
ment.  Take,  for  instance,  Count  Frederic  Friberg's  hus 
sar  tights  and  jackets  ?  When  did  ever  color-man  put  a 
cake  of  carmine  in  a  boy's  paint-box  that  would  equal  the 
richness  of  that  London  crimson  ?  And  then  the  red  sack 
that  gracefully  fell  from  the  top  of  his  shako.  And  Karl, 


MY   FIRST   DRAMA.  215 

his  man,  had  a  red  jacket,  too,  laced  over  with  gamboge 
and  worsted.  And  the  head  miller,  Grindoft',  alias  the 
head  robber,  Wolf,  in  his  red -top  Ronaldi  tunic  (second 
dress),  —  what  would  he  have  looked  like  in  pale  pink,  in 
stead  of  his  flaming  tunic  and  sash,  and  flamingo-feather 
in  his  slouch  of  a  slouched  hat  ?  I  tell  you,  if  you  expect 
to  make  an  impression  in  your  minor  theatre,  you  must 
have  plenty  of  carmine  in  your  dresses  !  Why,  they  do 
that  on  the  greater  stage — yes,  and  plenty  of  red  fire,  too. 
The  play,  of  course,  was  that  favorite  of  everybody's 
earlier  days,  "  The  Miller  and  his  Men."  You  know  the 
opening  chorus,  — 

"  When  the  wind  blowowowses, 
Then  the  mill  gowowowses ; 
When  the  wind  blows,  then  the  mill  goes, 
Our  hearts  are  all  light  and  merry ; 
When  the  wind  drowowops, 
Then  the  mill  stowowops: 
When  the  wind  drops,  then  the  mill  stops, 
We'll  drink  and  sing,  hey,  down  deny! 
We'll  drmk  and  sing,  hey,  down  deny! 
Down  deny,  down  deny,  down  deny ! 
Down  deny  "  — 

and  ever  so  many  downs,  and  ever  so  many  derrys. 

The  theatre  was  made  out  of  an  old  wooden  candle-box, 
turned  upside  down  so  as  to  afford  play  for  the  stage-man 
ager's  hand  to  work  the  actors  from  beneath.  The  pro 
scenium  was  nailed  to  one  end  of  the  box,  the  bottom 
being  removed ;  the  stage  was  made  of  slats,  nailed  cross- 
ways  ;  the  side-scenes  were  glued  to  bits  of  wood  that 
fitted  in  grooves  on  each  side,  and  the  curtains,  the  sky, 
and  the  big  back-scenes  were  suspended  by  strings  that 


216  MY  FIRST   DRAMA. 

ran  through  pulleys  of  bent  pins,  that  were  hammered  with 
infinite  trouble  into  the  frame-work  that  surrounded  this 
temple  of  art.  The  sheets  of  scenery  being  pasted  upon 
pasteboard,  afforded  a  delightful  and  gay  task  to  cut  out 
the  figures  of  trees  and  rocks,  bridges  and  cottages,  in  set 
scenes ;  but,  like  many  another  manager,  didn't  I  have 
trouble  with  my  dramatis  personce  ?  I  tell  you,  when  I 
had  them  all  pasted  on  stiff  cards,  wasn't  it  a  task  to  cut 
out  their  little  legs  without  injuring  their  symmetry.  Let 
anybody  try — I  do  not  care  how  skillful  an  artist  he  may 
be  —  no,«  not  even  if  he  has  the  genius  of  Michael  An- 
gelo  — just  let  him  try  to  cut  out  the  small  spaces  between 
the  calves  of  pasteboard  actors,  and  if  it  does  not  make  his 
heart  sick  before  he  finishes  them,  then  I  am  no  stage- 

7  O 

manager ! 

But  the  crowning  glory  of  the  whole  affair  was  the  mill. 
It  stood  in  four  rows  of  set  waters,  on  a  set  rock,  and  in 
the  description  of  scenery  was  called  "working."  That 
meant  that  the  mill  was  a  wind-mill,  with  four  wings  to 
move  around  during  the  whole  performance.  Why  didn't 
the  author,  Mr.  Pocock,  make  it  a  water-mill  at  once  ? 
But  to  turn  a  wire  crank  to  keep  the  figures  going,  and 
work  the  millers,  with  sacks  of  flour  on  their  backs,  across 
the  bridge  and  into  the  cavern  under  the  mill,  and  to  work 
the  boat  across  the  stage  in  four  rows  of  set  water,  and 
sing  the  opening  chorus  of  — 

"  When  the  wind  blowowowses  "  — 

and  to  attend  to  getting  old  Kelmar  on  the  stage  properly 
through  the  fourth  slat  from  the  footlights  —  it  does  tax 
one's  energies  to  set  them  in  motion  and  to  keep  them  in 
motion  at  one  time. 


MY  FIRST  DRAMA.  217 

Of  course  everybody  knows  the  plot  of  this  famous 
melodrama,  and  therefore  I  will  not  attempt  to  repeat  it, 
but  it  begins  in  this  way :  Old  Kelmar  has  a  beautiful 
daughter,  Claudine,  who  is  in  love  with,  and  is  loved  by 
a  young  peasant,  by  name  Lothair.  The  head  miller, 
Grindoff,  is  in  love  with  Claudine  also,  but  he  has  an  un 
disposed  lot  on  his  hands  in  the  person  of  a  former  flame 
named  Ravina  —  and  when  I  say  a  flame  I  mean  it  —  in  a 
brown  slashed  skirt  trimmed  with  black,  two  brass  clai&ps 
to  slashes,  and  red  petticoat  showing  through.  The  miller 
and  his  men  are  all  robbers.  As  millers,  they  steal  meal 
all  day  from  the  farmers ;  and  as  robbers,  they  steal  all 
night  from  the  rest  of  the  public,  thus  doing  a  heavy  busi 
ness.  Under  the  broad,  white  hat  of  the  miller,  Grindoff 
wore  the  black,  corkscrew  curls  of  Wolf,  the  bandit. 
Under  his  peaceful,  white  smock-frock  were  concealed  an 
iron  breast-plate,  a  pair  of  pistols,  and  all  the  pestilent 
passions  that  poison  the  pericardium  of  a  professional  pil 
ferer.  The  miller's  men  are  all  dressed  in  smock-frocks 
—  with  robber-costumes  beneath,  of  course.  Count  Fred 
erick  Friberg,  with  his  man  Karl  (comic),  have  lost  their 
horses  and  their  way  in  the  deepest  kind  of  a  Bohemian 
forest.  (Notice,  that  it  is  a  common  practice  with  actors 
to  lose  their  horses  in  such  places.)  They  travel  on  foot 
during  a  thunder-storm  to  the  cottage  of  old  Kelmar, 
Claudine's  father ;  get  a  night's  lodging  on  two  chairs  be 
fore  the  fire,  and  are  dogged  by  the  robbers,  who  determine 
to  kill  them  —  for  Count  Friberg  is  a  very  vigilant  magis 
trate,  and  intends  to  root  up  the  robbers  and  destroy  their 
little  trade.  Grindoff,  however,  fails  to  kill  the  count,  but, 


218  MY   FIRST   DRAMA. 

inspired  by  love,  carries  off  Claudine  to  his  den.  Lothair 
disguises  himself,  and  joins  the  robbers  to  rescue  Claudine. 
Here  he  finds  Ravina  getting  ready  to  administer  a  little 
comfort  to  his  lady-love  in  the  shape  of  a  cup  of  cold  pisin. 
This  he  dashes  from  her  hand,  and  persuades  her  to  enjoy 
SAveeter  revenge  —  namely,  to  blow  up  old  Grindoff  lei 
surely,  and  all  his  men,  as  well  as  the  mill,  and  any  number 
of  barrels  of  family-flour,  marked  extra  and  extra-super 
fine.  For  this  purpose  a  fuse  is  laid  in  the  crevices  of  the 
rocks  connected  with  the  magazine,  which  Ravina  is  to 
touch  off  when  all  is  ready.  In  the  mean  time,  old  numb 
skull  Kelmar,  who  has  been  wandering  about,  calling  out 
"  Me  cheild !  me  cheild  !  "  falls  in  with  a  company  of  Fri- 
berg's  dragoons,  who  have  also  lost  their  horses,  and  brings 
them  to  the  mill  in  the  nick  of  time.  The  last  scene  was 
a  wasted  piece  of  stage  effect.  The  mill  being  made  to 
blow  up,  it  had  another  mill  behind  it,  all  wire  and  red 
tinsel.  The  fuse  communicated  with  a  large  fire-cracker 
which  was  to  cause  the  explosion,  and  half  a  dozen  other 
broken  in  two  for  the  purpose  of  keeping  up  the  illusion, 
by  fizzing  in  small  detachments  behind  the  pasteboard 
rocks  around  the  mill.  Ah  !  it  was  a  moment  of  unparal 
leled  excitement  when,  at  the  last,  the  robbers  swarm 
around  the  mill  —  the  Friberg  dragoon  muskets  are  pointed 
at  them  —  Claudine  is  snatched  from  the  arms  of  Grindoff 
by  Lothair,  who  dashes  with  his  lovely  prize  across  the 
bridge  and  shouts  out,  "  Now,  Ravina,  fire  the  train  !  "  Fuf 
—  fuf — fuf  goes  the  fuse.  Bang!  goes  the  big  fire-cracker. 
Fizz,  fizz,  fizz,  and  the  demi-crackers  are  sparkling  up  intc 
small  fountains  of  fire,  when  the  old  mill  blows  up  in  sec- 


MY   FIRST    DRAMA.  219 

tions,  disclosing  the  jagged  edges  of  its  tinsel  substitute, 
and  the  orchestra  plays 

"  When  the  wind  blow-owes  " 

on  a  fine  tooth  comb.  Some  difficulty  was  experienced  at 
first  in  getting  the  performers  to  move  easily  in  the  slats, 
and  as  many  of  them  came  on  sideways,  they  had  to  ske 
daddle  back  again  in  the  same  fashion  when  the  dialogue 
was  over.  Count  Frederick  Friberg  having  his  left  arm 
under  a  blue  fly  —  a  short  hussar  cloak,  with  the  elbow 
sticking  out  like  a  derrick  —  had  to  elbow  his  way  on  the 
stage,  and  when  he  retired  the  last  thing  seen  of  him  was 
his  elbow  and  the  angle  of  the  blue  fly.  But  the  play  was 
a  great  success.  It  took  three  mortal  hours  to  perform  it, 
and  I  was  never  tired  of  the  performance.  It  was  rather 
too  much  though  for  two  maiden  aunts  and  one  maiden 
uncle  who  came  one  evening  to  spend  a  quiet  hour.  I 
peeped  over  the  top  of  the  theatre  from  time  to  time  to  see 
how  they  were  enjoying  it,  and  I  beheld  the  three.  They 
looked  like  the  three  Fates. 

But  I  had  one  audience  that  never  tired.  Four  little 
tin  lamps  served  as  footlights  —  they  were  not  bigger  than 
a  silver  quarter  of  a  dollar  in  circumference,  and  about  an 
inch  thick.  No  lights  were  allowed  elsewhere  in  the  room, 
and  they  sufficed  for  all  the  stage  business. 

Night  after  night,  a  little  girl's  face,  the  lower  part  in 
shadow,  the  upper  in  full  light  of  the  lamps,  was  intently 
watching  the  performance.  Shall  I  ever  forget  those  large, 
tender,  brown  eyes,  that  thoughtful  brow,  those  clustering 
curls,  and  those  patient  hands  clasped  in  her  lap  ? 


220  MY    FIRST   DRAMA. 

She  used  to  sit  in  a  high  chair,  so  that  the  light  from  the 
stage,  thrown  upward  upon  features  that  were  wonderfully 
harmonious,  enhanced  every  dimple,  and  brought  forth  in 
strong  relief  the  exquisite  tenderness  of  expression  Avith 
which  her  face  was  illuminated.  Shall  I  ever  cease  to  re 
member  Adelaide  M ,  my  only  audience  ? 

To  be  sure,  sometimes  the  audience  interrupted  the 
stage  business  thus  :  — 

AUDIENCE.  —  "  Who's    that  ?  —  who's  that  ?  —  who's 
that?" 

STAGE-MANAGER.  —  "  This  is  Ravina." 

AUDIENCE.  —  "  Who  is  she  ?  " 

STAGE-MANAGER.  —  "  She  is  the  wife  of  the  chief  rob 
ber." 

(STAGE-MANAGER,  as  Ravina)  :  "  Pity  me  !  I  am,  in 
deed,  an  objic  of  compassion.  Seven  long  years  a  captive, 
hopeless  still  of  li-iber-rty.  Habit  has  almost  made  my  heart 
as  these  r-rude  r-rocks  that  scr-r-reen  me  from  the  light  of 
heaven !  Miserable,  lost  R-ravina !  By  dire  necessity 
become  an  agent  of  their  wickedness,  yet  born  for  virtue 
and  for  freedom  !  " 

AUDIENCE.  —  "  What  is  she  saying  ?  " 

A  small  white  head  reappears  over  the  top  of  the 
theatre  :  — 

"  Adelaide,  if  you  don't  pay  more  attention  to  what  Ra 
vina  is  saying,  I'll  just  let  down  the  curtain,  and  you  sha'n't 
see  the  mill  blow  up." 

The  great  success  of  "  The  Miller  and  his  Men  "  led  me 
to  dramatize  a  story  then  just  published,  called  "  Karl 
Blewen ;  or,  The  Tall  Mariner  of  the  Maelstrom."  It' is 


MY   FIRST   DRAMA.  221 

astonishing  how  fond  all  boys  are  of  stage  heroes  with 
the  name  of  Karl.  The  tall  mariner,  however,  was  a  very 
wicked  fellow,  and  the  piece  ends  with  the  wretch,  when 
at  the  very  height  of  his  villainy,  being  sucked  down  into 
the  depths  of  the  maelstrom. 

Now,  the  whirlwind  that  I  made  to  do  Mr.  Karl's  final 
business  was  as  big  as  a  saucer,  made  of  paper  in  wreaths 
and  frills  all  around  the  central  tube,  down  which  the  male 
factor  was  to  be  drawn.  The  waves  were  concentric,  and 
painted  like  waves,  —  green,  with  white  spray,  —  and  the 
whole  revolved  around  a  wire  crank  under  the  stage.  Of 
course,  as  whirlpools  suck  everything  down  through  the 
centre  by  simply  revolving,  I  supposed  all  that  had  to  be 
done  was  to  drop  Mr.  Blewen  into  the  midst  of  the  vortex, 
whirl  him  round  rapidly,  and  down  he  would  go.  But, 
unfortunately,  on  the  first  and  only  night  of  the  play,  the 
chief  performer,  instead  of  being  whirled  down  in  the  hole, 
was  whirled  out  of  the  whirlpool,  and  out  beyond  the  foot 
lights.  He  was  picked  up  and  placed  in  the  maelstrom, 
but  he  would  not  "  down."  Every  time  he  was  whirled, 
he  would  whirl  out  instead  of  in.  So  from  that  time,  nei 
ther  Adelaide  nor  I  believed  in  maelstroms.  Any  one 
who  had  witnessed  the  scenic  performance  would  come 
away  satisfied  that  the  centrifugal  tendency  of  a  whirlpool 
is  just  the  opposite  of  what  it  is  supposed  to  be. 

O !  pensive  brown  eyes,  why  do  ye  still  seem  to  shine 
•jpon  me  out  of  the  deeps  of  shadow,  made  visible  by  those 
stage-lamps?  Are  those  the  spiritual  eyes  of  Adelaide, 
that,  after  so  many,  many  years,  still  appear  bending  over 
her  page  as  vividly,  as  gentle,  and  as  patient  as  they  did  in 


222  MY   FIRST   DRAMA. 

years  past  and  gone  ?  I  know  that  I  once  stood  by  a  little 
girl's  dying  bed,  and  saw  the  breast  heave  with  the  flicker 
ing  life.  I  know  that  I  once  followed  my  only  audience 
to  her  little  grave  in  the  old  church-yard.  I  know  that 
years  afterward  I  took  down  from  the  attic  the  dusty  frame 
of  what  had  been  a  little  theatre.  The  mice  had  made 
away  with  scenery  and  performers ;  even  the  maelstrom 
had  gone  piecemeal,  devoured  by  the  ruthless  teeth  of 
Time.  The  weather  stains  of  many,  many  years  are  on 
the  gravestone  of  little  Adelaide,  but  how  is  it  that  as  I 
write  now,  I  feel  all  the  tender  affection  of  a  pure  boy 
often  toward  his  first,  his  dear,  his  child-sweetheart  ? 


XXVIII. 

antr 


wind  had  steadily  blown  from  the  northeast,  m 
the  most  spiteful  manner,  for  three  days  :  every- 
thing  was  dripping  ;  outside  of  the  house,  a  cold, 
cheerless  prospect,  from  the  window,  of  gray  sky,  wet  and 
leafless  trees,  and  lank  evergreens,  or  of  the  filtering  mois 
ture  soaking  through  the  roots  of  the  lawn-grass,  or  run 
ning  in  little  woe-begone  rivulets  down  the  carriage-road. 
The  clothes-lines,  so  tense  from  the  moisture  that  they 
never  could  be  unfastened  and  coiled  away,  were  obsti 
nately  bent  upon  trying  to  uproot  the  posts  to  which  they 
were  tied  in  the  knottiest  of  knots,  that  set  both  finger 
nails  and  teeth  at  defiance.  It  seemed  as  if  one  would  like 
to  go  out  and  thrum  a  miserable  ditty  upon  them  of  some 
one  tb*t  had  been  hanged,  if  for  no  other  purpose  than  in 
sheer  spite,  to  shake  off  the  thousand  drops  that  hung  pen 
dent  from  the  zigzag  lines.  Everything  was  reeking  : 
the  wheelbarrow  was  drizzly  ;  the  celery-trenches  were 
half  filled  with  yellow  water  ;  the  windows  on  the  side  of 
the  barn  facing  the  storm  were  shut  in  ;  and,  on  the  top 
of  the  barn,  the  wooden  weathercock  (which,  by  the  way, 
was  a  fish)  pointed  due  —  due  —  due  N.  E.  ! 

We  could  see  it  from  the  dining-room  window.     Every 


224  WIVES   AND   WEATHERCOCKS. 

day  we  looked  at  it,  and  there  it  was,  with  its  forked  tail 
obstinately  turned  to  the  S.  W.  Ah  !  as  we  watched  that 
weather-fish,  didn't  we  keep  Lent ! 

The  house  itself,  which  is  a  clever  little  bit  of  comfort 
able  architecture  in  almost  all  weathers,  began  to  grow 
uncomfortable  inside.  The  fire  did  not  seem  to  be  as 
cheerful  as  usual.  Talk  of  contrasts  —  of  the  cold,  howl 
ing  storm  without,  and  the  bright  warm  fire  within  —  of 
the  inclemency  of  nature  on  the  outside  of  the  door,  and 
the  blessed,  hospitable  welcome  on  the  cozy  inside ! 
Those  ideas  are  only  rhetorical  contrasts,  not  real !  Sup 
pose  you  have  ever  so  warm  a  fire  inside,  and  happen  to 
look  out  of  your  dining-room  window,  and  there,  on  your 
barn,  is  a  weather-fish,  with  its  tail  steadily  pointing  S. 
W.,  and  its  head  in  the  opposite  direction,  will  all  the 
cozy  fires  in  the  world  bring  happiness  to  your  despairing 
bosom  ?  And  suppose  the  day  was  Wednesday,  and  you 
had  invited  that  dear,  old,  bookish  prig,  Bulgrum,  and  his 
wife,  Mrs.  Bulgrum — who  is  also  your  wife's  dearest  friend 
—  and  the  three  little  Bulgrums,  all  girls,  to  dine  with 
you,  and  partake  of  a  plain  country  dinner ;  and  you  had 
provided  a  Bucks'  county  turkey,  with  celery,  to  say 
nothing  of  everything  else  —  a  plain  soup,  for  instance,  to 
begin  with,  with  green  peas  ;  and  an  oyster  pdt£,  to  help 
your  appetite ;  cauliflower,  as  big  as  a  bride's  bouquet,  a 
present  from  the  president  of  a  horticultural  society;  a 
baked  ham,  with  Champagne  sauce,  to  flank  the  turkey, 
and  a  bit  of  Kennebec  salmon  for  the  fish ;  and  as  you 
think  of  the  fish,  your  visual  orb  reaches  through  the  glass 
window  to  that  other  fish  on  the  barn ;  and  there  he  is, 


WIVES  AND  WEATHERCOCKS.  225 

with  his  pertinacious  phiz  pointing  forever  —  N.  E. !    N. 
E. !    N.  E. ! 

I  would  not  have  minded  it  so  much  if  Bulgrum,  who  is 

O  * 

a  careful  man  about  keeping  his  engagements,  had  not 
said :  "  Now  mind  you,  we'll  come  if  it  don't  rain  !  "  And 
not  only  this,  but  my  wife,  who  is  rather  particular  in  her* 
culinary  skill,  and  begins  to  prepare  for  a  dinner  a  day  be 
forehand,  said  to  me  on  Wednesday  morning,  with  a  face 
full  of  falling  weather :  "  If  they  don't  come,  nothing  will 
keep." 

Now,  although  Bulgrum,  over  his  wine  and  cigar,  is  one 
of  the  most  delightful  companions  —  a  perfect  scholar  and 
accomplished  gentleman,  a  sort  of  admirable  Crichton,  in 
fact  —  a  man  who  will  talk,  not  like  a  book,  but  like  a  li 
brary  of  books,  and  then  also  talk  wonderfully  of  new  things 
never  recorded  in  books ;  and  his  wife,  Mrs.  Bulgrum,  is 
one  of  the  most  charming,  sensible,  pretty,  and  discreet  of 
little  women  —  as  good  as  she  is  wise,  and  as  tasteful  as 
she  is  good-humored  and  witty ;  and  the  little  girls  of  the 
name  of  Bulgrum,  who  are  a  little  like  father  and  a  good 
deal  like  mother  ;  and  we  felt  how  much  we  all  would  have 
enjoyed  their  visit  to  us  —  for  I  would  have  absorbed  Bul 
grum  ;  my  wife  would  have  been  knee-to-knee,  the  whole 
evening,  with  Mrs.  Bulgrum ;  and  our  daughters  would 
have  taken  the  three  young  Bulgrums  into  their  play-room, 
among  their  dolls'  play-houses,  and  such  a  happy  time  as 
we  would  have  had  but  for  that  weather-fish ! 

One  being  I  could  make  happy.  If  I  could  not  conjure 
np  our  visitors,  I  could,  at  least,  bring  a  happy  smile  to  the 
face  of  my  better  half.  I  determined  to  do  it.  She  had 

15 


226  WIVES   AND   WEATHERCOCKS. 

been  all  the  morning  in  the  kitchen  —  not  grumbling  ex 
actly,  but  smothering  her  grief  by  making  pies  and  tarts, 
and  attending  to  the  preparation  of  the  dinner  generally. 
For  she  said,  if  it  cleared  off  in  the  afternoon,  they  Avould 
come  in  the  four-o'clock  train  ;  and  so,  Avith  her  hands  full 
of  flour,  every  little  while  she  would  give  a  sorrowful 
glance  through  the  wet  kitchen-windows  toward  the  fish 
on  the  top  of  the  barn.  Meantime,  I  was  busy  with  a 
treatise  on  Proverbs,  in  the  library,  in  which  I  found  many 
srumbs  of  comfort ;  and,  among  the  rest,  that  "  No  good 
norse  is  of  a  bad  color,"  and  that  "  It  is  an  ill  wind  that 
blows  nobody  good,"  and  that  "  The  darkest  hour  is  first  be 
fore  day,"  and  so  on  ;  when  I  heard  my  wife's  footstep  on 
the  stairs,  and  I  knew  she  was  going  up  into  the  spare-room 
closet,  after  the  old  grandmother  coffee-set,  which  never 
appeared  except  for  company.  Now  was  the  time  for  me  ! 
I  speedily  put  myself  inside  of  a  pair  of  mouldy  boots 
that  had  grown  blue  Avith  the  damp  Aveather,  and,  slipping 
on  a  kind  of  a  split  pea-jacket,  hurried  off  to  the  barn, 
armed  Avith  a  common  gimlet.  In  the  roof  of  the  barn 
was  a  first-class  scuttle  ;  and,  climbing  a  ladder,  I  squeezed 
through  the  hole,  and  Avas  soon  in  possession  of  the  head 
strong,  obstinate,  dogged  Aveathercock-fish,  which  stood  sen 
tinel  on  the  summit  of  a  little  iron  rod  nailed  by  a  croAvfoot 
to  the  apex  of  the  roof.  But  I  must  explain  the  mechanism 
of  a  Aveathercock.  You  take  Avhatever  animal  you  please 
for  a  model,  and  carve  out  his  image  from  a  shingle  or 
other  bit  of  soft  Avood.  Then  you  bore  a  hole  underneath 
and  in  the  exact  centre  of  him ;  or,  if  you  haven't  a  gim 
let,  you  can  heat  the  end  of  the  kitchen-poker  and  burn 


WIVES   AND   WEATHERCOCKS.  227 

i 

out  a  socket  about  two  inches  deep,  and  a  quarter  of  an 
incli  in  diameter.  If  your  poker  is  too  large,  get  the  vil 
lage  blacksmith  to  alter  it  for  you.  When  your  weather 
cock  is  all  ready,  just  put  up  somewhere  on  the  roof  of 
your  barn  an  upright  wire  that  will  fit  the  socket,  upon 
which  you  can  slip  your  vane,  and  try  it.  When  the  wind 
comes,  if  you  have  balanced  him  exactly  upon  his  centre, 
you  will  find  that  he  will  point,  head  or  tail,  the  way  of  the 
wind,  just  as  it  happens.  So  you  will  have  to  take  him  off 
again,  and  make  the  pivotal  aperture  a  little  on  one  side  of 
the  centre,  nearer  the  head  or  tail,  and  you  will  find  that 
the  longest  part  of  the  pointer  will  always  be  turned  to  the 
quarter  of  the  heavens  opposite  to  that  from  which  the  wind 
comes.  The  fact  is,  that  the  true  philosophy  of  the  con 
duct  of  a  weathercock  is  not  to  show  which  way  the  wind 
is  going,  but  which  way  the  current  of  wind  has  gone.  In 
this  respect,  it  resembles  the  teachings  of  experience. 
Now,  all  I  had  to  do  with  our  weathercock  was  to  bore  a 
hole  a  couple  of  inches  abaft  the  centre,  so  as  to  make  the 
head-part  longest  and  heaviest,  and  then  the  tail  would 
point  to  the  northeast  and  the  head  to  the  southwest.  I 
did  so,  set  him  on  his  pivot  again,  scrambled  down  the  lad 
der,  and  as  soon  as  possible  got  to  the  house  without  dis 
covery. 

By  and  by  my  wife  came  down -stairs  with  a  basketful 
of  coffee-cups.  I  could  hear  her  in  the  dining-room  busy 
with  them,  putting  them  to  rights  on  the  beaufet.  Just 
then,  as  if  to  add  a  little  to  the  delusion,  the  rain  held  up 
for  a  brief  interval.  And  then  I  heard  her !  she  was  com 
ing  !  she  broke  into  my  room  in  a  storm  of  joy,  seized  me 


228  WIVES   AND   WEATHERCOCKS. 

by  the  arm,  and,  drawing  me  into  the  dining-room,  pointed 
through  the  moist  window  at  the  faithless  monitor  on  the 
roof,  and,  witli  her  eves  beaming  with  delight,  said :  "  The 
wind  has  shifted !  O  !  "  she  continued,  "  I  had  a  pre 
sentiment  they  would  come  after  all.  It  is  only  one  o'clock 
now,  and  plenty  of  time  for  them  to  get  off!  "  Although 
it  rained  nearly  all  that  blessed  afternoon,  my  wife  was 
happy  whenever  the  weathercock  met  her  eye.  It  was  the 
signal  of  hope,  of  blue  sky  and  balmy  breezes.  And  soon, 
when  train  after  train  had  passed,  and  we  sat  down  to 
dinner,  with  five  empty  chairs  instead  of  guests,  and  I  told 
the  truth  about  the  weathercock,  yet  was  my  wife  no  less 
pleased.  "  Since  you  did  it  to  please  me,"  she  said,  "  I 
have  no  fault  to  find  with  that  deceitful  weathercock."  So 
we  all  had  a  happy  dinner,  and  drank  the  health  of  the 
Bulgrums ;  and  I  fumigated  the  library  with  a  fragrant 
cigar  afterward,  and  arrived  at  the  sage  conclusion  that  if 
husbands  would  only  try  to  please  their  wives  a  little,  and 
not  have  their  weathercocks  always  pointing  northeast, 
that  there  would  be  more  happy  households  in  the  world 
and  cheerful  firesides,  in  spite  of  outside  rain-storms. 


XXIX. 

Jhrtriau  Summer  — 


IPj  the  woods  begin  to  change,  and  nature,  like 

1  the  dying  dolphin,  puts  on  its  richest  hues,  and 
the  sunsets  are  gorgeous,  and  the  smokelike  vapor 
begins  to  gather  on  lake  and  watercourses,  and  cicada  have 
hushed  their  evening  orchestra,  and  the  bullfrogs  have 
ceased  to  pipe,  and  you  sometimes  see,  at  early  dawn,  hoar 
frost  on  the  meadow  —  that  is  Indian  Summer  ! 

Or  later,  when  the  dried  leaves,  slowly  winding  down 
from  branch  to  earth,  strip  the  forlorn  tree,  and  the  brown 
and  sturdy  oak  rustles  bravely  with  its  rusty  foliage  ;  and 
the  green  grass  is  strewn  with  the  pointed  tawny  leaves  of 
the  chestnut,  and  the  highway  roads  grow  crisp,  and  echo 
to  the  wheels  of  vehicles,  and  the  sky  and  river  seem  as  if 
they  never  could  be  so  blue,  and  a  thin  haze  hangs  in  the 
air  —  then  we  know  that  it  is  Indian  Summer  ! 

Or  later  —  when  the  trees  are  all  stripped,  and  their 
skeletons  stand  motionless  in  the  still  air,  and  the  open 
chestnut  burs  still  rerc  ^in  upon  the  ground  ;  when  all  the 
leaves  have  been  blown  into  heaps  or  ridges,  and  wreaths 
of  smoke  begin  to  curl  up  from  rural  chimneys,  and  all  the 
birds  but  unusual  flocks  of  sparrows  have  flown,  and  the 
nights  are  cool  with  frosty  stars,  and  the  days  humid  and 
hazv  —  then  that  is  the  Indian  Summer  ! 


230  INDIAN   SUMMER  —  WHEN  ? 

Or  later  —  when  the  grass  itself  begins  to  grow  gray, 
and  the  clouds  grow  ashy  and  threatening,  and  the  river 
looks  cold  and  ghastly,  and  the  roads  are  in  flinty  ridges, 
and  a  flurry  of  snow  has  scared  away  the  sparrows,  and 
coal  and  kindling-wood  advance  in  price,  and  butchers  grow 
rosy,  and  meat  is  exorbitant,  and  poultry  is  firm  in  price, 
and  everybody  says  this  is  the  first  touch  of  winter ;  and, 
suddenly,  the  clouds  break,  and  the  yellow  sun  comes  out 
like  a  bridegroom  rejoicing,  and  warms  up  again  the  dull 
earth  and  the  hearts  of  men  ;  and  the  blue  vapor  is  seen 
again  in  the  heart  of  the  shadowy  woods.  Then,  every 
body  says,  this  is  the  Indian  Summer  I 

Or  later  —  when  December  has  arrived,  and  we  begin 
to  overhaul  the  furry  robes  of  the  stable,  and  horses  have 
to  be  carefully  blanketed  when  they  cease  to  trot,  and 
men  find  now  what  overcoats  were  made  for,  and  children 
understand  how  kind  was  grandmother's  forethought  when 
she  knitted  the  mittens  —  and  the  wind  howls,  and  the 
snow  flies,  and  the  rain  and  sleet  becomes  blinding,  and 
the  lightning  ceases  to  flash,  and  the  thunder  to  explode  in 
the  sky,  and  then  warm  and  humid  weather  reappears, 
and  the  mist  rises,  and,  enveloping  with  its  magic  veil 
river,  cliffs,  woods,  and  plain,  so  that  imagination  tricks  up 
the  barren  landscape  with  herbage,  flower,  and  foliage,  and 
we  see  in  the  flushing  clouds  the  roseate  hues  of  gardens, 
and  once  more  the  misty  plains  seem  tempting  to  the  tooth 
of  grazing  animals,  and  the  foggy  woods  appear  to  be  re 
loaded  with  foliage,  and  the  bright  squirrel  comes  from  his 
hiding-place,  and  now  and  then  a  solitary  wasp  crawls  on 
the  window-plane,  and  we  begin  to  think  we  have  been 


INDIAN   SUMMEK  —  WHEN  ?  231 

premature  with  blankets,  and  we  sit  by  open  windows,  and 
let  the  fire  in  the  house-furnace  fret  itself  to  ashes,  and  we 
begin  to  anticipate  the  mildest  of  winters,  then  everybody 
says  that  is  the  Indian  Summer  ! 

When,  then,  is  Indian  Summer  ?    Is  it  in  the  full  change 

77  O 

of  the  green  leaf  to  the  infinite  hues  of  October  ?     Is  it  in . 
the  November  month,  — 

"  Ere  o'er  the  frozen  earth  the  loud  winds  run, 
Or  snows  are  sifted  o'er  the  meadows  bare,"  — 

that  it  comes,  like  a  plumed  and  painted  warrior  ;  or  is  it 
far  beyond  this  period,  even  in  the  bleak  December,  that 
this  most  poetical  of  seasons  appears,  with  magic  touch,  to 
spread  a  halo  over  »ur  American  landscapes  ?  Is  it  not  a 
blessed  thing  —  one  to  subdue  the  heart  with  love  and 
gratitude  —  that  we  have  not  one  Indian  Summer  alone, 
but  many  ;  that,  during  the  dreary  months,  this  beautiful 
vision  comes  and  goes,  and  reappears  and  vanishes,  not 
like  the  hectic  flush  of  decaying  life,  but  anticipating,  as 
it  were,  the  rosy  days  of  future  summers  ?  Is  it  not  a 
delightful  source  of  happiness  to  know  that,  even  amid  the 
cold  and  tempestuous  future,  some  days  will  be  bright  and 
brief  seasons  of  themselves  —  not  singly,  but  followed  by 
many  other  days  of  gorgeous  beauty — a  succession,  as  it 
were,  of  Indian  summers  ?  It  is  an  error  to  suppose  that 
the  colored  foliage  is  the  work  of  frost  or  decay.  I  have 
seen  the  leaves  turn,  at  the  appointed  season,  when  not  a 
crystal  of  frost  has  touched  a  blade  of  grass  —  when  the 
days  and  nights  were  warm  as  many  in  midsummer.  It 
is  because  the  time  has  come  for  the  ripening  of  the  leaf, 


232  INDIAN   SUMMER  —  WHEN  ? 

as  it  has  come  for  the  ripening  of  the  cheek  of  a  Flemish 
beauty,  or  a  Duchesse  D'Angouleme. 

Thank  the  Creator  of  all  seasons  that  we  have  dozens 
of  Indian  summers  between  October  and  January. 

But  do  not  look  for  them  after  the  last  day  of  Decem 
ber.  After  Christmas,  comes  the  New  Year,  and  no  more 
summers.  But  it  is  still  a  season  of  hope.  In  January, 
when  the  sun  gets  stronger,  and  the  days  grow  longer, 
then  we  begin  to  look  for  Spring  !  — for  the  early  crocus 
blooming  amid  the  snow — for  the  "resurrection  of  the 
earth  "  — for  the  tiny  bluebird  building  its  hopeful  nest  — 
for  the  ploughed  mould  and  fructifying  showers.  Such, 
even,  is  human  life.  Many  a  heart  grows  prematurely 
wintry,  desolate,  and  cold,  while  others,  in  advanced  age, 
carry  with  them  a  sort  of  frost-bitten  bloom,  and  live  and 
bask  in  an  atmosphere  of  Indian  summers. 


XXX. 

Ha 


the  city  of  Paris  there  is  a  street  that  runs  parallel 
with  the  Louvre,  the  garden  of  the  Tuileries,  and 
the  Champs  Elyse'es  (or  Elysian  Fields),  just  one 
block  apart  from  them,  and  called  by  the  name  of  Rue  St. 
Honore*.  It  was  one  bright  and  beautiful  morning  that  I 
walked  up  this  street  with  a  friend  of  mine,  who  then 
resided  in  this  famous  city.  "  You  will  see,"  said  he,  "  a 
great  deal  that  is  vile  and  wicked  in  Paris,  if  you  take  the 
trouble  to  look  for  it  ;  but  you  will  also  find  a  great  deal 
that  is  good,  noble,  and  benevolent,  if  you  will  take  the 
same  trouble  ;  although  I  must  say  that  foreign  visitors  do 
not  care  much  to  find  out  what  is  really  good  and  worthy 
of  visiting  here,  preferring  instead  to  indulge  their  curiosity 
in  other  and  less  reputable  objects."  So  saying,  he  led 
me  through  a  door  up  one  flight  of  stairs  into  a  spacious 
room,  that  at  once  filled  me  with  surprise  and  delight. 

For  standing  endwise  against  the  walls  of  the  room,  on 
every  side,  were  beautiful  little  swinging  cradles,  nearly 
all  of  light  iron-work,  and  painted  of  various  colors  — 
blue,  green,  white,  and  gold,  and  other  gay  tints,  with  tiny 
white  sheets,  blankets,  and  pillows,  and  nestled  amid  the 
soft,  warm  coverings  was  such  a  multitude  of  rosy  faces, 


234  LA   CRECHE. 

nearly  all  of  them  fast  asleep,  that  what  with  the  bright 
day  shining  through  the  tall  windows,  and  the  bright 
cradles,  and  the  exquisitely  clean  room,  and  the  little 
heads  and  closed  eyelids,  and  rosy  cheeks  and  lips  of  this 
baby  congregation  around,  one  could  scarcely  be  unmoved, 
even  if  he  were  an  American,  and  his  own  little  ones  were 
no  nearer  to  him  than  three  thousand  miles  beyond  the 
salt  sea ! 

Nor  was  the  surprise  of  seeing  so  many  swinging 
cradles  at  all  diminished  by  reading  the  illustrious  names 
attached  to  them  ;  for  every  one  had  a  plate  or  card,  upon 
which  was  engraved  or  inscribed  the  name  of  some  juve 
nile  of  illustrious  birth :  for  instance,  the  one  on  my  right, 
as  I  entered,  bore  the  name  of  the  young  Prince  Imperial, 
and  others,  on  every  side,  exhibiting  some  title  of  nobility 
belonging  to  the  tender  morning  glories  of  the  Empire. 
"So,  then,"  said  I,  "here  lies  the  flower  of  the  young 
noblesse  of  France  ! "  Here  are  the  infant  emperors, 
princes,  dukes,  marquises,  and  counts  of  the  Napoleonic 
dynasty.  Alas !  where  are  the  young  Bourbons,  the 
Orleans,  the  Montpensiers,  the  Joinvilles,  the  Moni- 
morencies  ?  By  my  faith,  the  children  of  people  of  rank 
are  always  beautiful ;  there  is  a  something  so  distinguished- 
looking  in  their  countenances,  even  when  asleep,  that  you 
at  once  recognize  the  difference  between  them  and  the 

O 

children  of  ordinary  people  ! 

A  few  of  the  youthful  dukes  and  princes  were  wide 
awake,  and  sitting  bolt  upright  in  their  cribs,  while  quite 
a  rosy  ring  of  urchins  were  seated  on  the  clean  wax  floor, 
all  with  round,  shining  eyes,  and  little  black  heads,  and 


LA   CRECHE.  235 

blooming  cheeks ;  but,  to  my  surprise,  not  among  them 
all  was  a  note  of  complaint  uttered,  a  cry  of  pain,  an  ex 
clamation  of  fretfulness.  All  looked  happy,  clean,  and 
content.  But  it  seemed  to  me  they  were  awfully  serious 
—  staring  at  us  with  haughty  looks,  as  if  impressed'with 
the  dignity  of  their  positions  in  life. 

A  couple  of  bright,  apple-faced  nuns  of  the  Order  of 
St.  The"rese,  clad  in  yellow  stuff  gown,  with  keys,  rosaries, 
scissors,  pincushions,  or  other  useful  articles,  hanging  from 
their  girdles,  were  bustling  about  among  the  callous  com 
munity,  as  full  of  goodness  and  mirth  and  cheerful  conver 
sation,  as  if  they  had  been  veritable  mothers  themselves. 
The  whole  establishment,  one  of  them  said,  was  under 
the  immediate  protection  of  the  Empress,  as  well  as 
seventeen  other  creches  in  the  city.  They  were  benevo 
lent  institutions,  where  poor  mothers  could  deposit  their 
babies  in  the  morning,  before  going  to  their  daily  work, 
returning  to  nurse  them  at  proper  hours,  and  then  to  take 
them  home  in  the  evening.  When  they  are  brought  to 
La  Creche  in  the  morning,  they  are  washed,  dressed,  fed, 
and  attended  to  during  the  whole  dav,  medical  attendance 

•/   ' 

provided,  if  necessary,  for  all  of  which  the  mother  pays 
only  two  sous  (or  two  cents).  This  institution  takes 
charge  of  sixty  children  a  day,  none  of  which,  I  believe, 
are  over  two  years  of  age.  The  swing-cradles  are  the 
gifts  of  benevolent  ladies,  many  of  them  of  high  rank, 
and  are  given  in  the  name  of  their  own  little  ones.  "  See 
here,''  she  said,  pointing  to  the  first  one  that  attracted  my 
attention,  u  a  cradle  from  the  Empress  herself!  " 

So,  then,  these  are  not  children  of  noble  blood,  but  only 


236  LA   CRECHE. 

foundlings  of  washerwomen  and  seamstresses.  I  thought 
from  the  first  they  all  had  a  sort  of  plebeian  look  I  "  Par 
don  me,  monsieur,"  said  Sister  Agathe,  "  these  are  not 
foundlings.  Their  mothers  are  very  poor  ;  but  they  may 
be  very  respectable.  And  when  they  take  their  infants 
away  at  night,  ah  !  monsieur  should  see  how  happy  the, 
poor  mothers  are  to  get  them  back  once  more  —  hugging 
them  as  if  they  never,  never  wanted  to  part  with  them 
again  ! " 

It  was  a  beautiful  thought  to  give  these  institutions  the 
name  they  bear  ;  for  La  Creche  signifies  "  a  manger,"  and 
at  once  brings  to  mind  the  heavenly  manger  in  which  the 
young  Saviour  —  himself  a  child  of  the  poor  —  was  care 
fully  laid  by  his  virgin  mother. 

Such  institutions  as  La  Creche  do  not  foster  crime  ;  but 
they  may  be  the  means  of  preventing  hundreds  of  thou 
sands  of  cases  of  infanticide  ;  they  may  prevent  many 
cases  of  suicide  ;  they  may  even  bind  fathers  and  mothers 
together  by  stronger  ties  than  those  which  are  too  often 
separated  by  misery  and  hepelessness.  Little  children 
soon  grow  large  enough  to  take  care  of  themselves,  ana 
even  to  add  to  the  support  of  a  family.  But  while  they 
are  infants,  and  helpless,  and  poor,  and  friendless,  protect 
them  for  a  little  while,  O  ye  benevolent ! 

I  turned  from  La  Creche  with  a  happy  heart,  to  think 
that  even  in  this  vast  and  vicious  city  the  little  ones  were 
not  altogether  unprovided  for  ;  that  even  in  the  midst  of 
toil  and  privation,  Parisian  mothers  could  look  forward  to 
the  rising  of  the  morning's  sun  with  hope  and  gratitude  ; 
and  as  I  then  thought  of  my  own  country,  a  cloud  dark- 


LA   CRECHE.  237 

encd  my  spirit,  and  I  said :  "  Would  to  God  we  had  a 
day-by-day  asylum,  such  as  this,  in  the  midst  of  our  popu 
lous  and  thriving  cities !  If  we  had,  how  many  a  poor 
mother's  heart  would  be  lightened  over  her  daily  work, 
and  how  many  a  rich  woman's  heart  would  feel  glorified 
in  ministering  to  such  a  charity !  Surely  there  are  plenty 
of  benevolent  ladies  who  would  contribute  a  cradle  a-piece ! 
Surely  there  are  plenty  of  benevolent  gentlemen  who 
would  gladly  lend  their  aid  to  support  such  a  building ; 
the  expense  of  nurses  would  not  be  much  —  indeed,  how 
many  poor  women  would  be  too  happy  to  embrace  such  a 
situation  ?  And  then  to  think  of  the  good  it  might  do ; 
of  the  crimes  it  might  prevent ! 


XXXI. 


N  artist  friend  of  mine,  who  was  engaged  in  the 
composition  of  a  large  picture,  representing  a 
gypsy  camp,  told  me  that  he  had  travelled  in 
America  some  hundreds  of  miles  in  search  of  these  singu 
lar  people,  who,  it  seems,  have  at  last  crossed  the  Atlantic 
and  now  form  a  new  element  in  our  heterogeneous  popu 
lation.  But,  like  Evangeline,  he  never  found  more  than 
the  place  where  they  had  been.  Gypsies  are  a  wandering 
race,  and  have  an  instinct  of  moving  from  place  to  place 
—  probably  a  little  quickened  by  a  wholesome  fear  of  the 
town  constable.  The  artist  also  informed  me  that,  at 
present,  gypsies  are  becoming  quite  numerous  here,  and 
that  already  there  are  two  kings  of  the  gypsies  controlling 
two  branches  of  this  vagabond  race  in  this  country.  I 
ventured  to  suggest  that  this  idea  of  their  being  numerous 
was  probably  owing  to  the  fact  that  they  wandered  about, 
and  so  were  counted  several  times  over,  like  the  Irish 
man's  flea.  However,  be  it  as  it  may,  he  never  found  his 
encampment  ;  and  began  his  sketch  from  recollections  of 
those  he  had  seen  so  many  times  in  Europe. 

It  was  during  one  of  the  loveliest  days  in  our  Indian 
Summer  that  I  had  occasion  to  ride  across  Westchester 


GYPSIES.  239 

County,  to  see  a  gentleman  upon  business.  The  leaves 
had  not  yet  wholly  deserted  the  trees,  but  the  branches 
were  becoming  visible  on  them.  A  profusion  of  the  most 
brilliant  hues  met  the  eye  at  every  turn.  Every  leaf 
twinkled  like  a  colored  jewel  in  the  sunlight;  and  the 
peculiar  blue  haze  of  vapor  that  rolls  up  from  the  moist 
earth,  hung  like  a  silvery  veil  over  the  distant  landscape, 
and  added  its  contrasting  charms  to  the  rich  colors  of  the 
foreground.  At  last  the  waters  of  the  Sound  appeared  in 
the  distance,  and  I  had  reached  the  end  of  my  journey. 
Passing  the  gate-lodge  to  an  extensive  domain,  I  rode 
through  a  natural  wood  of  huge  oaks  and  maples,  magnifi 
cent  in  gorgeous  colors,  until  I  came  to  a  turn  in  the  road 
occasioned  by  a  sharp,  edgy  granite  rock  that  intruded 
itself  directly  in  the  way  at  this  point ;  and,  turning  this 
huge  obstacle,  I  came  in  view  of  something  that  filled  me 
with  surprise  and  delight.  It  was  ft  gypsy  camp. 

As  I  had  not  time  to  examine  it  — -  and,  indeed,  it 
seemed  to  be  entirely  deserted  —  I  rode  onward  rapidly, 
to  finish  the  object  of  my  journey  first,  determining  to  pay 
it  a  visit  on  my  return.  On  my  arrival,  I  found  the  ladies 
of  the  mansion-house  not  a  little  excited  about  their 
strange  visitors.  They  only  wanted  to  pluck  up  a  little 
courage,  and  then  they  would  go  to-morrow  and  investi 
gate  the  mysteries  of  palmistry,  although  there  was  some 
little  financial  difficulty  in  the  way;  for  in  order  to  insure 
good  luck,  you  know,  you  must  first  cross  the  gypsy's  palm 
with  a  silver  sixpence,  —  and,  alas !  where  was  a  silver 
sixpence  to  be  found  ? 

As  I  rode  homeward  I  had  occasion  to  observe  that  my 


240  GYPSIES. 

friend's  domains  were,  in  some  places,  more  extensive  than 
valuable.  The  rising  grounds  were  covered  with  gigantic 
forest  trees,  through  which  the  road  wound  in  beautiful 
undulations,  bringing  into  view  picturesque  glimpses  of 
nature,  seemingly  as  if  the  owner  had  made  all  the  studies 
fcrr  effect  peculiar  to  an  English  park.  After  threading  a 
mile  or  more  of  this  forest  landscape,  the  road  opened  upon 
extensive  salt  marshes,  perfectly  level,  and  extending  out 
to  the  waters  of  the  Sound  and  the  horizon  line.  The 
sun,  now  sinking  in  the  west,  appeared  like  a  vast  bonfire, 
amidst  glowing  clouds,  and  its  ruddy  light  flushed  the  sur 
face  of  the  meadows,  illuminating  every  pool  and  winding 
water  creek,  with  gleams  of  crimson  flame.  Another  turn 
in  the  road,  and  passing  through  a  clump  of  trees,  I  rode 
into  the  camp.  It  was  pitched  on  the  inside  of  the  huge 
gray  rock  I  spoke  of,  over  which  hung  a  few  scattered 
maples  in  all  the  glory  of  foliage  peculiar  to  the  Indian 
Summer.  The  vast  marshes,  spreading  out  to  the  horizon 
line^  added  repose  and  solitude  to  the  scene.  On  the  side 
opposite  the  rock)  and  beyond  the  tent,  a  struggling  array 
of  leafless  bushes  were  arrayed  with  a  great  variety  of  old 
frippery,  and  portions  of  children's  dresses  hung  out  to  dry 
« —  a  perfect  harlequinade  of  brilliant  colors  ;  and  near  the 
tent  a  group  of  children  in  motley,  with  a  couple  of  gypsy 
women  seated  on  the  ground,  dressed  with  that  peculiar 
taste  for  picturesque  costume  for  which  the  race  has  been 
so  often  noted,  formed  a  composition  which  no  beholder 
with  the  least  emotion  for  art  could  look  at  without  feeling 
an  exquisite  sense  of  pleasure. 

They  were  English  gypsies  ;  the  women  with  the  pecul- 


GYPSIES.  241 

iar  charm  of  complexion  of  the  race,  —  clear  olive,  with  a 
blush  of  red  in  the  cheeks ;  fine  forms,  but  slender  and 
diminutive  ;  fine  features,  bright  black  eyes,  and  teeth 
which  might  have  been  white  but  for  the  tobacco  pipe. 
Like  the  Jews,  the  gypsies  are  a  race,  but  not  a  nation. 
But  while  the  Jews  usually  have  fixed  abodes,  these  are 
the  true  apostles  of  the  ancient  and  honorable  fraternity 
of  vagabonds.  By  profession  they  are  tinkers,  farriers, 
poachers,  mountebanks,  fortune-tellers,  beggars,  thieves, 
and  sometimes  worse. 

To  no  people  does  the  term  outcast  so  properly  belong. 
Formerly  it  was  supposed  they  came  from  "  Egypt,"  and 
hence  the  name  they  bore ;  but  in  the  secret  language  of 
the  gypsy  tribes,  no  word  of  Coptic  is  to  be  found,  while 
many  of  Hisdostanee,  or  even  Sanscrit,  can  be  traced, 
showing  clearly  their  Asiatic  origin.  And  here  they  are, 
thrown  by  the  wave  of  over-populous  Europe  upon  this 
western  hemisphere.  A  people  who  have  lived  under  all 
forms  of  government,  and  yet  subject  to  their  own  laws  ; 
under  all  religions,  yet  preserving  only  some  relics  of 
Asiatic  superstitions  ;  amidst  all  languages,  yet  speaking 
among  themselves  the  language  of  the  East ;  ignorant  of 
dictionaries  and  vocabularies,  yet  teaching  this  mysterious 
tongue,  until  it  has  become  the  thieves'  language  all  over 
the  world.  No  laws  can  restrain  them,  no  benevolence 
reclaim  'them,  no  temptation  of  wealth  and  ease  can  induce 
them  to  adopt  a  fixed  residence,  but  ever  to  wander  is 
their  lot.  Living  in  the  midst  of  nations  of  mixed  races 
which  have  become  homogeneous  by  intermarriage,  these 
singular  people  preserve  the  pure  blood  of  the  Hindoo  for 

16 


242  GYPSIES 

thousands  of  generations,  and  with  it  an  instinctive  habit 
of  laziness,  of  trickery,  of  voluptuousness.  Strange  peo 
ple  !  What  effect  will  America,  that  great  amalgam  of 
strange  peoples,  have  upon  you  ?  Will  you  too,  gypsies  ! 
become  Americans  and  fight  for  the  old  flag  ?  Never ! 
As  there  are  fixed  and  wandering  stars  in  the  heavens, 
so  will  there  be  fixed  and  wandering  tribes  on  the  earth, 
for  all  time ! 


XXXII. 

Pribate 


fAM  a  medical  man  by  profession,  and  a  quack  in 
practice.  Now  understand  me.  I  am  a  regular 
practitioner  —  college-bred  —  studied  with  old  Dr. 
Trichianosis,  got  a  diploma  from  the  College  of  Physicians 
and  Surgeons,  and  am  empowered  legally  to  do  what  I 
please  with  my  patients  —  "  patients  on  a  monument  " 
(Shakespeare),  or  under  one  ?  he  !  he  !  —  and  so  far  am  reg 
ular.  But  the  quackery  lies  in  the  way  I  practice.  To  tell 
you  the  truth,  I  am  by  nature  a  humorist,  and  would  dote 
upon  a  joke,  within  the  limits  of  becoming  mirth  ;  but  I 
dare  not  do  it.  It  would  ruin  my  practice  ;  I  should  lose 
all  my  patients,  —  that  is  to  say,  I  should  lose  all  of  them, 
whereas  now  I  only  lose  some  of  them  ;  so  I  have  schooled 
myself  to  a  degree  of  seriousness  that  is  as  good  as  a  for 
tune  to  me.  Here  is  where  I  applaud  myself  for  being  a 
quack.  I  believe  I  could  even  stand  by  the  bedside  of  old 
Dr.  Phineas  B.  Mumps,  my  rival,  and  see  him  depart, 
without  a  smile  on  my  lips,  although  I  know  the  old  rascal 
has  been  trying  to  get  my  patients  away  all  his  life,  and  I 
know  also  that  I  would  have  my  pick  of  his  as  soon  as  the 
breath  \vas  out  of  his  body.  But  if  I  show  no  outward 
and  visible  signs  of  the  mirth  that  rages  within  me,  I  suf- 


244  PRIVATE   THEATRICALS. 

fer  a  great  deal  from  congestion  of  the  jocose  membranes. 
That  is  a  complaint  not  in  the  books,  but  it  ought  to  be. 

One  very  cold  winter  the  poor  became  so  alarmingly 
numerous  in  our  village  that  the  price  of  bread  and  coal 
nearly  doubled  in  value.  The  consequence  was  that  the 
Ladies'  United  Tatting  and  Crochet  Association  for  the 
Amelioration  of  the  Condition  of  the  Meritorious  Poor 
held  a  meeting,  and  it  was  determined  to  give  an  Enter 
tainment  at  the  village  hall  for  the  benefit  of  the  unfor 
tunate.  But  what  kind  of  an  entertainment  ?  Never  had 
anything  in  our  slow  and  sleepy  village  been  seen  beyond 
lectures  and  negro  minstrels ;  and  so  when  the  proposition 
was  made  "  to  have  an  amateur  theatrical  entertainment," 
some  of  the  elderly  female  officers  of  the  meeting  nearly 
fainted  away.  The  proposition  was  at  once  indignantly 
voted  down,  but  the  thought  had  taken  root,  and  it  was  not 
long  before  it  developed  itself  outside  of  the  Society.  Those 
members  who  had  the  rosiest  cheeks  and  the  brightest  eyes 
and  the  softest  curls  would  persist  in  asking  serious  people 
—  like  myself,  for  instance,  and  the  clergy  of  the  different 
denominations  —  whether  there  really  was  any  harm  in  the 
performance,  if  the  play  had  no  swearing  in  it,  and  the 
funds  collected  were  for  a  good  object.  The  answers  be 
ing  perfectly  satisfactory,  you  should  have  seen  how  the 
contagion  spread !  Finally  it  was  arranged  that  there 
should  be  an  amateur  performance  ;  that  the  word  "  dra 
matic  "  should  be  suppressed,  out  of  regard  to  the  tender 
consciences  of  several  families  who  would  not  attend  if  it 
was  called  by  that  name,  but  who  would  subscribe  for 
tickets  if  it  were  simply  an  "  entertainment."  The  busi- 


PRIVATE   THEATRICALS.  245 

ness  of  preparation  was  placed  in  the  hands  of  a  committee 
of  gentlemen,  and  the  time  of  performance  fixed  at  two 
weeks  from  date  by  the  ladies  of  the  Society  —  with  a  re 
quest  that  the  play  should  be  "  Hamlet."  The  committee 
had  but  little  to  do  in  two  weeks.  They  had  only  to  cast  the 
piece  so  as  to  allot  proper  persons  to  the  different  characters ; 
the  performers  had  to  study  their  parts,  rehearse,  and  get 
ready  their  costumes ;  the  stage  manager  had  to  provide 
all  the  scenery;  and  as  the  rural  stage  had  no  conven 
iences,  carpenters  were  to  be  suborned  to  supply  the  neces 
sary  slides,  grooves,  gear,  and  tackle ;  the  property-man 
was  enjoined  to  get  foils  and  bowls  of  poison,  skulls  and 
spades  for  the  grave-diggers,  and  everything  —  so  that  noth 
ing  should  be  wanting  to  prevent  our  having  a  lively  time 
of  it. 

O,  how  I  wanted  to  play  Polonius  !  I  knew  the  part 
by  heart,  but  it  would  ruin  me  in  my  professional  practice 
if  I  ever  ventured  to  reveal  that  I  had  a  mind  acute 
enough  to  discern  the  points  of  that  wonderful  character. 

However,  the  play  of  "  Hamlet "  had  to  be  given  up. 
When  the  committee  requested  the  gentlemen,  at  a  subse 
quent  meeting,  to  write  down  their  names  on  a  slip  of 
paper,  with  the  characters  they  would  be  willing  to  assume 
in  this  celebrated  tragedy,  they  found  in  the  hat  nine  names 
for  Hamlet,  and  not  one  for  anything  else,  —  all  owing  to 
the  influence  of  Edwin  Booth  no  doubt.  Then  in  regard 
to  the  carpenter  —  he  wanted  a  month  at  least  to  prepare 
his  fixtures.  As  for  the  scenery,  that  had  not  been  ordered 
yet.  Some  of  the  ladies  suggested  that  we  might  go  to 
the  New  York  theatres  and  borrow  some  old  scenery  that 


246  PRIVATE   THEATRICALS. 

they  did  not  want  to  use.  But  that  was  objected  to  upon 
the  ground  that  as  regular  stage  scenery  was  usually  thirty, 
forty,  or  even  fifty  feet  high,  and  as  our  amateur  stage  had 
a  clear  head-room  of  only  twelve  feet,  we  could  not  stand 
up  the  borrowed  scenes  even  if  we  had  them.  Upon  which 
hey  proposed  to  play  "  Hamlet  "  without  scenery.  On 
consideration  it  was  found  this  proposition  would  not  an 
swer.  So  after  due  deliberation  it  was  determined  to  aban 
don  "  Hamlet,"  and  to  play  the  "  Dead  Shot,"  with 
"  Bombastes  Furioso  "  as  the  after-piece.  Six  weeks  were 
allowed  for  the  preparation  of  even  these  slight  pieces,  but 
then  we  had  nothing  ready,  and  had  to  get  everything 
made. 

The  Figaro  of  the  whole  affair  was  Mr.  Lempriere,  the 
young  banker.  Under  his  active  management  the  prepara 
tions  were  all  completed  in  due  time.  It  invariably  hap 
pens  in  amateur  performances  that  something  is  forgotten 
which  spoils  the  whole  play.  Mr.  Lempriere  forgot  noth 
ing.  He  had  the  scenery  painted  and  the  carpenter's  work 
completed  ;  he  had  the  broken  china  and  pistols  for  the 
Dead  Shot ;  the  dash  of  red  paint  for  the  supposed  death- 
ivound ;  the  punch-bowl,  ladle,  pipes,  tobacco,  foils,  and 
boots  for  Bombastes  —  everything,  in  fact,  provided,  so 
that  the  actors  had  nothing  to  do  but  to  learn  their  parts. 
Then  they  were  drilled  by  book  R.  H.  U.  E.  and  C.  and 
exit  L.  H.,  and  all  the  choruses  were  rehearsed  on  various 
pianos  in  our  suburban  village  ;  and  nothing  was  wanting. 
I  say  nothing  was  wanting  —  I  am  mistaken  —  one  per 
former  was  wanting.  Every  other  character  in  the  farce 
and  the  burlesque  was  beautifully  filled  except  the  part 


PRIVATE  THEATRICALS.  247 

of  the  tall  grenadier  in  the  army  of  Bombastes.  No  one 
could  be  found  to  take  that  part.  How  I  wanted  to  do  it  T 
I  was  fitted  for  the  character,  being  six  feet  two  inches 

7  o 

high.  As  the  time  rolled  on  toward  the  opening  night, 
and  no  one  volunteered,  my  fingers'  ends  thrilled  with  the 
pent-up  desire  within  me.  Nobody  thought  of  asking  me 
to  play  the  part  —  the  gravest  man  in  Goose  Common  I 
So  I  began  to  fish  for  an  invitation.  I  called  upon  Figaro. 
"  Sir,"  said  I,  in  my  professional  voice,  "I  see  no  harm  in 
this  proposed  entertainment,  if  conducted,  as  it  will  be, 
with  a  due  regard  to  decorum  and  public  opinion.  In  fact, 
I  do  not  think,  grave  and  serious  as  is  my  nature,  that 
I  would  hesitate  even  to  take  a  part  in  it  myself,  provided 
I  had  no  study  to  perplex  me,  and  that  I  could  be  so  dis 
guised  that  no  one  would  know  me,  for  in  all  benevolent 
enterprises  for  the  benefit  of  the  poor  I  am  ready  to  lend 
a  helping  hand,  both  professionally  and  otherwise."  There 
was  but  one  prominent  thought  in  the  mind  of  Figaro,  and 
that  was  how  to  get  some  one  to  play  the  tall  grenadier. 
So  after  hopping  about  in  a  very  ridiculous  manner,  snap 
ping  his  fingers,  and  surveying  my  tall  thin  form  with  evi 
dent  satisfaction,  he  said,  in  a  whisper,  "  Suppose  there 
was  just  such  a  character,  would  you  undertake  it?" 
"  Ah,  my  friend,"  said  I,  gravely,  "  do  not  ask  me  ;  I 
would  not  participate  in  a  stage  dialogue  for  the  world." 
"  But,"  responded  Figaro,  "  if  I  could  find  a  part  in  which 
you  would  not  have  a  word  to  say ;  and  the  make-up  would 
so  effectually  disguise  you  that  your  own  wife  would  not 
know  you,  would  you — just  for  this  once  —  be  willing  to 
undertake  it  for  the  sake  of  helping  a  benevolent  enter 
prise  ?  " 


248  PRIVATE   THEATRICALS. 

"  If  there  were  such  a  part,  and  nobody  else  could  be 
had  to  fill  it,  I  might  promise  to  do  it,  for  the  sake  of  hu — • 
man — i — ty !  " 

"  Then,"  said  he,  taking  out  his  tablets,  "  you  are 
booked  for  the  tall  soldier  in  the  army  of  Bombastes. 
Here's  the  play  ;  study  your  part ;  no  rehearsal  needed ; 
I'll  tell  nobody,  you'll  tell  nobody  — 

"  '  Nobody,  nobody,  nobody,  no ! ' 

and  nobody  will  be  the  wiser,"  and  he  went  on  reciting  his 
part  — 

"'  Loved  Distaffina!     Now,  by  my  scars  I  vow, 
Scars  got  —  I  haven't  time  to  tell  you  how; 
By  all  the  risks  my  fearless  heart  hath  run,  — : 
Risks  of  all  shapes,  from  bludgeon,  sword,  and  gun, 
Steel-traps,  the  patrol,  bailiff  shrewd  —  and  dun; 
By  the  great  bunch  of  laurels  on  my  brow, 
Ne'er  did  thy  charms  exceed  their  present  glow ! '  " 

But  I  had  to  interrupt  him  and  take  my  leave. 

Doctor  Seneca  booked  for  the  big  soldier  in  "  Bombastes 
Furioso  !  "  How  completely  I'll  disguise  myself,  and  how 
I'll  astonish  them  —  wife  and  all !  Lempriere  is  a  banker, 
and  knows  how  to  keep  a  secret ;  how  I'll  roll  mine  like  a 
rich  morsel  under  the  tongue  !  Nobody  shall  ever  know 
who  played  the  part  of  the  tall  soldier,  and  I  will  play  it  so 
they  will  all  want  to  know ;  and  won't  I  hear  of  it  when  I 
visit  my  patients  next  morning  !  Let  me  see  what  the  text 
says :  — 

"  R.  Enter  Bombastes,  attended  by  one  drummer,  one  fifer,  and  two  soldiers, 
all  very  materially  differing  in  size." 

I  do  not   know  how  the   others   will  appear ;  but  I  shall 
very  materially  differ  in  size  from  three  of  them. 


PRIVATE   THEATRICALS.  249 

That  very  night  I  began  to  prepare.  I  could  not  have 
had  a  more  favorable  opportunity.  My  wife  had  gone  to 
the  United  Tatting  and  Crochet  Association,  as  it  was  the 
regular  night  ;  my  man,  Dutch  Joe,  drove  her  there  in  the 
family  chariot,  which  consisted  of  one  horse  and  a  vehicle 
that,  for  want  of  a  better  name,  I  had  christened  the  Riff- 

3  7  O 

marole.  That  I  might  not  be  disturbed,  I  went  down  in 
the  kitchen  to  tell  the  girls  they  need  not  attend  to  the 
office  grate,  as  I  would  see  to  it  myself;  that  they  might 
bring  up  a  pitcher  of  cold  water;  and  if  they  wished  to 
visit  the  neighbors'  girls,  they  might  go  for  a  couple  of 
hours,  which  favor  they  did  not  refuse.  So,  going  up  to 
my  office  again,  I  sat  down  and  smilingly  began  to  think 
over  affairs.  In  the  first  place,  I  must  have  a  heavy  black 
mustache  and  beard ;  they  could  easily  be  procured  in  the 
city.  But  then  my  nose  was  long,  straight,  and  thin — a 
peculiar  nose.  What  was  I  to  do  with  it  ?  Over  a  black 
mustache  and  beard  it  would  be  more  conspicuously  noted 
—  perhaps  recognized  at  once.  There  was  not  another 
nose  like  it  in  Goose  Common.  Couldn't  the  tip  be  turned 
up  with  a  thread  running  behind  my  ears  so  as  to  make  a 
snub  of  it  ?  I  tried  it,  and  it  was  capital  in  effect ;  but 
the  sharp-edged  thread  was  highly  irritating  to  the  pugna 
cious  organ.  That  wouldn't  do.  Could  I  enlarge  my 
nostrils  by  stuffing  them  full  of  cotton  ?  I  tried  this  ;  but 
nature  —  always  ready  with  contiivances  of  her  own  to  rid 
herself  of  incumbrances  —  came  to  the  rescue  with  such 
a  tremendous  sneeze,  as  I  was  packing  the  cotton  into  its 
place,  that  it  blew  both  plugs  out  and  across  the  room.  So 
that  had  to  be  abandoned. 


250  PRIVATE   THEATRICALS. 

At  last  an  idea  struck  me  as  feasible.  We  had  plenty 
of  garden  seeds  in  Dutch  Joe's  room,  and  among  the  rest 
a  quantity  of  dried  Lima  beans.  I  would  get  a  couple  of 
these  beans,  glue  them  fast  with  Spaulding's  patent  glue 
to  the  outside  of  my  "  nosterils,"  as  Chaucer  calls  them ; 
and  as  a  Lima  bean  is  precisely  the  shape  of  a  large  nostril, 
they  would  do  admirably.  Then  over  them  I  would  lay  a 
piece  of  wet,  diaphanous  isinglass  plaster,  which  would 
adhere  so  closely  to  the  bridge  and  beans  of  the  recon 
structed  organ  that  all  would  appear  as  one  ;  and  then  I" 
would  paint  all  up  to  look  as  showy  as  possible.  My  wife 
would  not  be  home  for  two  hours ;  I  had  no  professional 
calls  to  make ;  all  was  quiet  indoors  ;  and  it  does  not  take 
long  to  glue  two  beans  to  your  nose,  cover  them  with  a  wet 
plaster,  and  wait  until  it  dries,  while  you  are  getting  the 
carmine  paint  ready. 

Howbeit  the  white  shiny  Limas  shone  through  the  thin, 
skin-colored  plaster  like  white  blisters  —  or,  to  speak  pro 
fessionally,  like  a  couple  of  cysts  provided  with  plentiful 
supplies  of  pus. 

While  the  plaster  was  gradually  drying  I  fashioned  a 
comic  eyebrow  with  burned  cork  over  my  left  eye  ;  but 
the  first  one  being  a  failure  I  was  trying  another  one  higher 
up,  and  had  partly  finished  number  two  when  I  heard  the 
door-bell  ring.  As  I  supposed  the  hired  girl  would  attend 
the  door  I  paid  no  attention  to  it,  but  the  ringing  continu 
ing,  the  thought  flashed  across  my  mind  that  both  the  girls 
had  gone  out.  So  I  thought  I  would  peel  my  nose  and 
take  off  the  accoutrements  before  I  opened  the  door.  But 
the  plaster  was  dried  hard  ;  and  as  the  bell  kept  up  a  con- 


PRIVATE   THEATRICALS.  251 

tinuous  jingle,  I  thought  that  somebody  migh.  require  in 
stant  medical  advice,  and,  nose  in  hand,  I  opened  the  door, 
and  in  walked  the  Rev.  Dr.  Job  Baldblather,  the  eloquent 
Old  School  Presbyterian  divine,  whose  sermon  on  last 
Sunday  had  been  levelled  at  theatrical  performances  in 
general,  and  at  this  entertainment  in  particular — and 
his  wife.  He  had  the  richest  congregation  in  Goose  Com 
mon,  many  of  them  afflicted  with  good  old-fashioned  chronic 
complaints.  I  was  his  family  physician  ;  his  patronage 
secured  the  very  pearls  of  his  congregation  ;  and  here  I 
was,  caught  with  a  nose  half-dramatized  !  Fortunately  the 
hall-lamp  was  only  dimly  burning,  and  he  had  not  seen 
much  as  yet. 

"  We  saw  your  office-lamp  shining  through  the  blinds," 
said  he,  in  a  pretty  gruff  voice,  "  and  we  knew  you  were 
at  home  — no,  not  in  the  parlor  "  —  (I  was  in  hopes  to  get 
them  seated  there  in  the  parlor  in  the  dark,  and  under  pre 
tense,  of  getting  alight,  plunge  my  nose  in  warm  water  and 
relieve  it  of  all  incumbrances)  —  "  no,  not  in  the  parlor," 
said  he  ;  "  we  will  go  in  the  office.  Mrs.  Baldblather's 
tonsils  are  swelled  to  an  enormous  size,  and  she  has  come 
to  you  for  advice." 

Could  anything  be  more  unfortunate  ?  In  that  office 
was  a  Carcel-lamp  of  great  brilliancy,  a  burned  cork,  rouge, 
strips  of  adhesive  plaster,  a  play-book,  and  a  bowl  of  Lima 
beans  !  Something  must  be  done.  I  instantly  threw  a 
newspaper  over  the  dramatic  materials,  and  exposing  my 
nasal  organ  to  their  astonished  view,  waited  to  hear  what 
they  would  say.  Great  Jones  Street !  how  it  frightened 
them  !  Mrs.  Baldblather  threw  up  her  hands  and  eyes 


252  PRIVATE   THEATRICALS. 

and  bleated  like  a  lamb ;  and  the  eloquent  divine  gazed  at 
mJ  apparition  of  a  nose  with  an  expression  in  his  spec 
tacles  such  as  Brutus  might  have  put  on  when  he  saw  the 
ghost  of  Caesar's  Roman  nose  at  Philippi ! 

A  happy  thought  rose  in  my  mind.  "  You  see,"  said  I, 
"  how  poor  men  of  science  suffer  that  multitudes  may  be 
benefited  !  I  am  trying  experiments  on  my  nose.  Bv  a 
topical  application  to  the  skin  an  irritation  is  produced 
which  raises  the  cuticle  in  the  form  of  a  vesicle  filled  with 
serous  fluid.  You  will  perceive,"  said  I,  laying  my  fore 
finger  upon  the  right-hand  bean,  "  the  peculiar  shape  of 
this  sack  or  bag  "  —  Just  then  the  door-bell  rang  again, 
but  I  had  now  an  excuse  ready  —  a  plausible  one,  that 
would  explain  everything ;  and  I  would  not  have  cared  if 
all  the  congregation  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Baldblather  called 
upon  me ;  so,  as  bold  as  a  lion,  I  went  to  the  door  and 
opened  it. 

It  was  my  friend  Figaro.  As  soon  as  he  caught  a  dim 
glimpse  of  my  spectre  of  a  nose  and  comic  eyebrow  he 
burst  into  such  an  uproarious  fit  of  laughter  that  the  house 
echoed  with  it.  "  Capital !  "  he  shouted  out.  "  O,  Doc 
tor,  what  a  genius  you  have  for  the  comic  !  That  nose  will 
bring  down  the  house  !  O  ho  !  ho !  ho  !  You  intend  to 
paint  it  red  —  a  true  Bardolphian  nose  !  O  ho !  ho !  oh  !  " 
In  vain  I  pulled  him  by  the  arm  and  pointed  to  the  office 
door,  and  with  shrugs  and  gestures  signified  that  I  had  com 
pany.  The  nose  and  the  double  eyebrow  ruined  all  my 
attempts  at  anything  like  a  remonstrative  or  appealing  ex 
pression.  At  last  I  quieted  him,  whispered  the  state  of  the 
case  in  his  ear,  opened  the  study  door,  and  ushered  him 


PRIVATE   THEATRICALS.  253 

into  the  presence  of  Dr.  Baldblather,  who  was  furiously 
reading  the  paper  I  had  used  as  a  screen,  while  his  wife 
was  inspecting  the  dramatic  materials  which  had  been 
hidden  under  it. 

An  instant  had  scarcely  elapsed  before  the  sound  of 
wheels  was  heard  rapidly  approaching,  sudden  jerks  of  the 
bell  continued  uninterruptedly,  and  I  had  to  admit  a  third 
visitor.  It  was  Dutch  Joe,  my  gardener,  groom,  and  char 
ioteer.  His  head  was  hanging  down  so  that  he  did  not 
perceive  my  altered  visage ;  his  arms  were  swinging  from 
side  to  side  ;  to  my  surprise  he  was  weeping  violently. 
44  O,  Doctor,  your  wife  is  maybe  det !  "  "  Dead  ?  " 
44  Yes,  she  hat  a  catfit  at  de  singin'  schule,  and  I  dink  she's 
det  and  gone  by  dis  dime.  All  de  laties  drow  der  scissor 
and  der  spools  and  der  neetles  ;  some  for  vater  vent ;  some 
opened  der  vintoes,  some  to  cry  begin  ;  O,  mem  Himmel ! 
and  some  say,  '  Joe,  run  for  de  Doctor  !  '  Der  old  hoss  is 
most  use  up,  I  trove  so  quick  as  you  never  see ;  hooray  up, 
Doctor :  maybe  she  's  det  so  soon  dat  you  never  more  will 
see  if  she  don't  be  alife  yet."  Good  Heavens  !  my  head 
swam  around  !  The  awful  intelligence  brought  by  Joseph 
had  been  heard  in  the  office,  and  everybody  came  out  in 
the  hall.  I  was  bundled  into  the  vehicle  as  Dr.  Baldblather 
whispered  in  my  ear,  "  This  is  a  judgment  upon  you  ; ' 
and  the  next  moment  I  was  whirling  toward  the  fatal  So 
ciety  rooms  where,  perhaps,  I  would  be  too  late  to  receive 
even  a  parting  recognition  from  my  angel  of  a  wife  !  At 
these  thoughts  I  sobbed  out  aloud,  and  Joe  joined  me  in  a 
howl  of  sympathetic  grief. 

We  reached  the  church,  in  the  basement  of  which  were 


254  PRIVATE   THEATRICALS. 

the  rooms  of  the  Society ;  down  the  stairs  I  flew,  burst 
into  the  lecture -room,  and  there  found  my  wife  lying  upon 
pillows  on  a  sort  of  sofa,  looking  as  pale  as  a  ghost,  but  still 
alive.  Jn  fact,  the  rooms  having  been  overheated  was  the 
cause  of  her  fainting  away,  which  had  so  frightened  Dutch 
Joe.  "  My  angel,  what  is  the  matter  with  you  ? "  I 
cried,  as  I  affectionately  folded  her  in  my  arms ;  but  she 
caught  a  glimpse  of  my  nose,  did  not  recognize  me,  gave  a 
yawp,  and  fainted  away  again  as  dead  as  Jephthah's  daugh 
ter. 

Nearly  all  the  ladies  of  the  U.  T.  &  C.  A.  screamed  and 
flew  out  of  the  lecture-room.  Joe,  who  had  not  had  a 
view  of  my  frontispiece  before,  and  who  was  naturally 
superstitious,  gave  a  yell,  and  bolted  also.  The  flying  con 
gregation  soon  brought  in  the  excellent  clergyman  who  had 
charge  of  the  parish  to  which  the  United  Tatting  and  Cro 
chet  Association  belonged ;  they  also  brought  in  Dr. 
Phineas  B.  Mumps,  my  rival;  Dr.  Baldblather  and  his 
wife  followed  hard  upon  our  heels  ;  Figaro  summoned  all 
the  dramatis  persona  ;  the  Society  ladies  all  flocked  inside 
again  ;  all  the  village  vagabonds  gathered  about  the  win 
dows  and  peered  through  them  ;  my  wife  had  her  hands 
chafed,  and  wet  rags  wrapped  around  her  head.  I  went 
to  the  vestry-room,  procured  a  bowl  of  hot  water,  and  un- 
nosed  myself:  my  wife  recovered,  but  I  lost  my  very  best 
patient.  The  fault  was,  not  that  I  had  constructed  a  nose 
of  Lima  beans,  but  that  I  had  been  caught  while  making  it. 


XXXII. 


FRIEND  of  mine,  who  had  been  for  many  years 
upon  the  Northwest  boundary  survey,  returned  at 
last  to  his  native  city.  While  upon  the  Pacific 
coast  he  had  made  the  acquaintance  of  a  young  frontiers 
man  —  a  youth  who  had  been  born  on  the  Northwestern 
border  of  Missouri,  and  whose  family,  following  the 
Western  tide  of  emigration,  had  at  last  pitched  tents  in 
Oregon  ;  while  he,  still  impelled  by  the  exploration-thirst, 
had  wandered  up  into  the  remoter  wildernesses  of  Puget 
Sound,  on  the  extreme  limits  of  Washington  Territory. 

My  friend  said  he  was  a  singularly  well-informed  man 
for  one  who  had  led  such  a  wandering  life  in  a  bookless 
land.  Every  scrap  of  printed  matter  that  fell  in  his  way 
he  perused  with  avidity,  and  being  blessed  with  a  memory 
"  like  wax  to  receive,  like  marble  to  retain,"  whatever  he 
read  was  firmly  retained.  Besides,  he  was  of  such  an 
inquiring  mind  that  whenever  he  met  a  stranger  from  the 
States,  it  would  be  curious  indeed  if  he  did  not  extract  some 
information  from  him.  Thus,  by  dint  of  these  three  fac 
ulties,  he  had  acquired  an  astonishing  knowledge  of  our 
Revolutionary  history  and  the  histories  of  the  subsequent 
wars,  and  in  manv  instances  could  cite  with  wonderful 


256  TRINITY    CHURCH-YARD. 

accuracy  and  minuteness  a  detail  of  events  connected  with 
facts,  dates,  and  persons,  that  might  have  put  to  the  blush 
many  a  college-bred  youth  of  his  own  age. 

My  friend  the  engineer,  after  his  return  to  New  York, 
kept  up  a  correspondence  with  the  Washington  Territory 
frontiersman,  and  one  day  received  a  letter  from  the  latter 
stating  his  intention  to  visit  the  great  city.  He  had  never 
seen  a  city  in  his  life.  The  Aspinwall  steamer  in  which 
he  was  expected  arrived  at  last,  arid  in  the  list  of  passen 
gers  was  the  name  of  the  frontiersman.  But  he  did  not 
make  his  appearance  at  the  house  of  his  quondam  friend 
until  nightfall.  By  some  chance  he  had  wandered  into 
Trinity  Church-yard,  and  there  passed  the  day. 

After  the  customary  salutations  were  over,  "  George," 
said  he,  addressing  the  engineer,  his  eyes  dilating  with 
wonder  as  he  spoke,  "  I  have  had  my  very  soul  moved 
this  day  with  what  I  have  seen. 

"  Sir,  I  have  seen  the  tomb  of  Alexander  Hamilton,  the 
soldier,  the  patriot,  the  statesman  !  And  beside  it  the 
modest  stone  that  is  set  over  the  grave  of  his  wife  Eliza, 
who  was  the  daughter  of  Philip  Schuyler,  one  of  Wash 
ington's  greatest  generals.  I  have  seen  the  monument  to 
Albert  Gallatin,  one  of  the  leaders  in  the  Western  whis 
key  insurrection,  and  afterward  so  worthy  and  tried  an 
officer  of  our  federal  government.  I  saw  there  the  tomb 
stone  of  Michael  Cresap,  first  Captain  of  the  Rifle  Bat 
talion,  who  died  in  1775  — '  a  son,'  so  the  inscription  runs, 
'  of  Colonel  Thomas  Cresap.'  Surely  can  this  be  a  son 
of  the  cruel  Colonel  Cresap  who  murdered  in  cold  blood 
all  the  family  of  Logan,  the  friend  of  the  white  Man,  and 


TRINITY   CHURCH-YARD.  257 

drew  forth  the  famous  message  to  Lord  Dunmore  from 
that  warrior :  '  There  runs  not  a  drop  of  my  blood  in  the 
veins  of  any  living  creature  !  This  called  on  me  for  re 
venge.  I  have  fought  for  it.  I  have  killed  many.  I  have 
fully  glutted  my  vengeance.  For  my  country,  I  rejoice  at 
the  beams  of  peace  —  but  do  not  harbor  a  thought  that 
mine  is  the  joy  of  fear.  Logan  never  felt  fear.  He  will 
not  turn  on  his  heel  to  save  his  life.  Who  is  there  to 
mourn  for  Logan  ?  Not  one  ! ' 

"  It  seemed  to  me,"  said  the  frontiersman,  "  as  I  read 
the  inscription  upon  the  stone  of  Captain  Cresap,  as  if  the 
blood  of  Logan  was  crying  to  me  from  the  ground.  Near 
that  stood  an  altar-shaped  tomb,  on  which  was  an  inscrip 
tion  which  filled  me  with  awe  and  reverence.  O  !  what 
simplicity  was  there,  what  filial  tenderness,  what  resigna 
tion,  and  what  faith  !  As  if  the  overcharged  heart  could 
but  repeat  the  beloved  name,  and  the  certain  hope  of  the 
hereafter :  — 

'"My  Mother! 
The  trumpet  shall  sound, 
And  the  dead  shall  arise ! ' 

No  other  words  were  there.  As  I  read  the  inscription.  I 
could  almost  fancy  the  sound  of  the  trumpet  echoing 
through  space,  and  the  heavens  opening. 

"  Near  to  this  tomb,"  continued  the  frontiersman,  "  I 
saw  another  that  recalled  to  my  mind  Gray's  Elegy :  — 

" '  Can  storied  urn  or  animated  bust 

Back  to  its  mansion  call  the  fleeting  breath?  ' 

This  marble  monument  had  once  been  very  elegant,  but  it 
had  fallen  into  decay ;  the  railing  around  it  was  choked 


258  TRINITY   CHURCH-YARD. 

with  weeds  and  dropping  to  pieces  with  rust ;  the  inscrip 
tion  itself  had  scaled  off  so  as  to  be  no  longer  readable  ; 
the  sepulchral  urn  that  had  formerly  crowned  the  summit 
of  the  structure  was  now  broken  from  its  pedestal,  and 
thrust  into  the  arch  that  ornamented  the  upper  part  of  the 
omb,  looked  like  a  head  that  had  been  decapitated.  Near 
to  that,  was  the  beautiful  tribute  to  the  memory  of  the  hero, 
Captain  James  Lawrence,  of  the  frigate  Chesapeake;  on 
one  end  of  it  his  dying  words  :  '  Don't  give  up  the  ship  ! ' 

"  But  the  saddest  of  all  was  the  tombstone  of  the  eight 
little  children  of  John  and  Effie  Lewis,  recording  that 
they  died  Avithin  a  few  years  of  each  other  —  the  eldest 
being  only  four  years  old,  and  the  youngest  four  months. 
And  although  they  died  so  long  ago  that  the  youngest,  if  it 
had  lived,  would  have  been  a  very  elderly  person  now,  yet 
they  died  in  their  youth ;  and  so  the  tears  stood  in  my 
eyes  as  I  thought  of  the  poor,  bereaved  mother  and  her 
sorrowing  helpmate  mourning  for  their  little  ones  seventy 
years  ago.  There  is  something  immortal  like  in  the 
memory  of  the  death  of  a  child.  You  know  I  lost  my 
first  boy,  and  that  sorrow  will  never  pass  away. 

"  Among  the  tombs,  many  were  dated  nearly  a  century 
and  a  half  ago.  I  suppose  these  things  are  familiar  to 
you,  but  to  me,  who  never  saw  anything  made  or  executed 
by  human  hands  more  than  twenty  years  old,  they  were 
the  first  that  I  had  ever  seen  of  that  strange  world  of 
which  I  had  read  so  often  —  the  world  of  the  past." 

It  was  strange  to  think  of  this  Western  man  regarding 
the  monuments  in  Trinity  Church-yard  with  the  same  feel 
ings  that  we  would  look  upon  the  Parthenon,  or  the  Pyra 
mids,  or  the  Sphinx,  or  on  the  columns  of  Luxor ! 


TRINIlf    CHURCH- YARD.  259 

"  Remember,"  said  my  friend  the  engineer,  "  that  this 
man,  who  was  so  wonder-struck  at  the  antiquity  of  the 
church-yard  at  the  head  of  Wall  Street,  had  often  seen  hi 
the  forest  of  Oregon  tiees  as  old  at  least  as  the  Pyramids, 
and  a  quarter  as  old  as  we  Christians  reckon  the  globe  to 
be." 

But  inanimate  things,  to  awaken  human  interest,  must 
possess  in  themselves  some  traditional  connection  with 
humanity.  The  trees  in  the  forests  of  Oregon  may  be 
even  older  than  the  cedars  of  Lebanon,  but  they  do  not 
recall  the  splendors  of  the  court  of  Solomon,  nor  the  armed 
hosts  of  Crusaders,  who  reposed  under  the  spreading 
branches  of  the  latter  when  the  Cross  and  the  Crescent 
contended  for  possession  of  the  holy  walls  of  Jerusalem  I 


XXXIV. 

for  4Mfc  Men. 


BOUT  eight  miles  from  Stratford-on-Avon,  the 
honored  birth  and  burial-place  of  Shakespeare, 
stands  the  pleasant  little  town  of  Warwick,  upon 
the  same  river,  the  most  beautiful  of  English  rivers,  — 
the  Avon.  If  you  are  a  moralist,  and  prone  to  compare 
the  pomps  and  vanities  of  the  world  with  the  humblest 
memorials  of  departed  genius,  you  need  but  look  upon  the 
stone-paved  kitchen  and  the  two-story  bedroom  of  the 
house  where  the  famous  dramatist  first  drew  breath,  and 
then  upon  the  lordly  towers  and  battlements  of  Warwick 
Castle,  to  satisfy  yourself  that  imagination  has  a  more 
lasting  hold  upon  the  world  than  reality  ;  that  the  creator 
of  fictitious  kings,  Shakespeare,  has  a  wider  and  more 
enduring  fame  than  even  the  King-maker,  the  last  of  the 
Barons,  the  proud  Richard  Neville,  Earl  of  Warwick, 
who  raised  up  and  pulled  down  real  kings  at  his  pleasure. 
It  was  while  enjoying  the  reflections  which  such  contrast 
will  naturally  awaken  in  every  human  breast,  that  I  loi- 
•'tered  through  the  pleasant  street  of  Warwick  ;  now  lean 
ing  over  the  stone  bridge,  beneath  which  flows  the  Avon, 
and  looking  lower  down  to  the  broken,  ivy-covered  arch  of 
tfie  old  bridge,  built  in  the  time  of  the  Crusades,  beyond 


HOMES   FOB   OLD   MEN.  261 

which  are  the  lofty  walls  of  the  castle  ;  or,  perchance, 
surveying  with  wonder  and  admiration  the  beautiful 
13eauchamp  Chapel ;  or  thinking  of  the  stout  hero,  Guy 
of  Warwick,  the  redoubtable  lover  of  fair  Phoelice,  —  that 
I  wandered  in  the  direction  of  one  of  the  town-gates,  over 
which  is  built  a  little  chapel,  and  presently  saw  a  quaint 
building  of  the  past  ages,  that  at  once  arrested  my  atten 
tion. 

It  was  a  Home  for  Old  Men. 

Such  is  the  inscription  over  the  front  of  the  hospital  of 

St.  John:  — 

"  HOSPITIVM  COLLEGIATVBI, 
ROBERT!    DVDI>EII,   COMITIS 
LEYCESTET^E, 

15      (         Bear          )      71 

and 
Droit  et      (  Ragged  Staff,  j      Loyal." 

Founded  nearly  three  hundred  years  ago  by  the  ambi 
tious  Earl  of  Leicester,  at  that  time  the  princely  suitor  to 
the  hand  of  Elizabeth ;  the  magnificent  Lord  of  Kenil- 
worth  ;  the  ambitious  pretender  to  the  princely  throne  of 
Holland  (and  so  sure  of  it,  that  medals  were  struck  to 
commemorate  the  event), — this  friend  and  enemy  of  Sir 
Walter  Raleigh  ;  this  faithless  relative  of  Sir  Philip  Sid 
ney  ;  this  intriguing,  splendid,  ambitious  voluptuary,  who 
may  even  have  connived  at  the  assassination  of  his  loving 
wife,  dear  Amy  Robsart,  that  he  might  gain  the  cruel 
hand  of  England's  greatest  queen  ;  this  man,  unprincipled, 
covetous,  selfish,  and  unscrupulous,  in  the  midst  of  hits 
profligate  career,  his  lust  of  power,  and  his  lust  of  wealth, 
had  so  much  of  human  instinct  in  him,  that  he,  out  of  his 


262  HOMES   FOR   OLD   MEN. 

superfluity,  endowed,  in  the  pleasant  town  of  Warwick, 
"A  Home  for  Old  Men."  The  name  of  the  Earl  of 
Leicester  now  is  a  by-word  and  a  reproach ;  his  memory 
is  connected  with  outrage,  cruelty,  and  baffled  ambition  ; 
Kenilworth  is  in  ruins  ;  but  this  endowment,  after  a  lapse 
of  three  hundred  years,  still  remains  living  and  pregnant 
with  life,  and  will  be  like  a  taper  shining  through  the  dark, 
to  show  for  future  ages  that 

"  So  shines  a  good  deed  in  a  wicked  world." 

That  old  hospitium  is  a  shining  good  deed  in  the  minds 
of  all  men.  It  is  not  a  pauper  asylum.  Its  inmates  are 
entitled  to  the  places  they  occupy  by  merit,  not  awarded 
a  place  by  favoritism  or  intrigue.  The  fact  of  being  there 
makes  them  respected. 

The  Hospital  of  St.  John,  with  its  spacious  court  and 
gardens,  was  established  in  the  reign  of  King  Richard  II., 
for  retired  soldiers,  and  purchased  by  Robert  Dudley,  Earl 
of  Leicester,  in  1571. 

At  the  time  of  my  visit,  I  was  shown  into  a  room 
where  a  Waterloo  hero,  with  his  two  swords  crossed  in 
the  ancient  window,  was  comfortably  reading  his  Bible. 
All  its  inmates  are  old  soldiers.  A  hundred  years  ago,  it 
was  an  asylum  for  the  veterans  of  Louisburg  and  Quebec. 
Fifty  years  before,  it  was  a  receptacle  for  the  worn-out 
soldiers  of  Marlborough  and  Prince  Eugene ;  and  before 
that  it  had  afforded  an  asylum  to  the  soldiers  of  Richard 
III.,  or  the  Duke  of  Richmond ;  before  that,  it  no  doubt 
sheltered  the  veterans  of  Richard  II.,  or  those  of  his  am 
bitious  and  successful  rival,  Henry  Bolingbroke,  afterward 
Henry  IV. 


HO.MKS   FOR   OLD   MKN.  263 

A  qaeer  little  sanctuary  for  old  age  !  May  tne  sun 
shine  ever  on  its  venerable  front,  with  its  pointed  gables, 
oak  frame-work,  and  little,  diamond-shaped  window-panes ! 
It  can  accommodate  twenty  pensioners,  the  youngest  old 
boy  being  over  sixty  years  of  ago  ;  the  oldest  over  eighty. 
There  are  some  rules  and  regulations  about  the  place  sug 
gestive  of  by-gone  days.  None  of  the  veterans  are  allowed 
to  go  into  the  streets  of  Warwick  without  wearing  a  long 
black  surtout,  without  sleeves,  that  reaches  almost  to  their 
heels ;  and  behind,  a  broad,  black  lappet,  with  a  silver 
badge,  nearly  as  big  as  a  door-plate,  with  the  arms  (in 
relief)  of  the  Dudleys,  —  "  The  Bear  and  Ragged  Staff; " 
the  latter  cognizance  you  find  in  various  forms  throughout 
the  building,  one  in  the  entrance-hall,  worked  in  in  tapestry 
by  poor  Amy  Robsart.  The  pensioners  are  not  allowed 
to  have  their  wives,  hawks,  nor  hounds  in  the  building. 
Each  one  receives  five  shillings  sterling  every  Thursday, 
and  seventeen  sovereigns  every  quarter.  I  visited  the 
chapel,  in  which  they  are  allowed  only  to  hear  the  ser 
vices,  and  in  which  they  are  not  allowed  to  take  Commu 
nion  ;  the  latter  ceremony  must  take  place  at  the  parish 
church.  The  Master  must  be  a  clergyman,  and  his  income 
is  four  hundred  pounds  a  year,  and  house-rent  free.  There 
is  a  fine  old  garden,  with  twenty  f)lots  set  apart,  so  that 
each  pensioner  can  cultivate  his  little  flower-patch ;  a  sum 
mer-house,  to  smoke  or  play  draughts  in;  a  chapel,  in 
which  service  is  held  nine  times  a  week ;  and  here  they 
live,  as  happy  and  contented  a  set  of  old  fogies  as  you  will 
find  in  the  world. 

In  the  neighboring  town  of  Coventry  are  two  asylums 


264  HOMES    FOR    OLD   MEN. 

for  old  people :  one  founded  in  1529  by  William  Ford,  a 
merchant  of  Coventry,  for  the  reception  of  "  aged  persons 
of  good  name  and  fame,"  now  occupied  by  aged  females 
only,  of  which  there  are  eighteen  or  twenty ;  and  the 
other,  Bond's  Hospital,  was  founded  in  1506  by  Thomas 
Bond,  a  wealthy  draper,  and  Mayor  of  Coventry,  for  the 
reception  of  "  ten  poor  men,  and  a  woman  to  dish  their 
meat  and  drink."  These  charitable  institutions,  from  suc 
cessive  donations,  have  considerably  augmented  their  rev 
enues.  Instead  of  ten  poor  men,  the  funds  of  Bond's 
Hospital  now  support  forty-five  residents  and  non-residents. 
Such  institutions  are  scattered  benefactions  in  the  various 
towns  of  England,  but  we  need  not  stop  to  enumerate 
them.  Passing  from  these  to  the  magnificent  structures 
of  Greenwich  and  Chelsea,  with  their  thousands  of  pen 
sioners,  and  the  no  less  noble  endowment  of  Louis  XIV., 
the  Hotel  des  Invalides,  swarming  with  invalid  soldiers, 
both  officers  and  men,  the  pride  and  glory  of  France,  and 
the  fitting  tomb,  of  Napoleon,  let  us  think  for  a  moment 
of  the  "  poor  old  men  "  of  our  own  country. 

Is  there  anything  more  cheerless  in  prospect  than  a 
lonely  old  age  ?  In  vain  do  we  seek  to  provide  for  a  com 
fortable  future  by  the  accumulation  of  wealth,  or  feel  a 
certainty  in  the  anticipation  of  laying  in  a  stock  of  happi 
ness  by  a  tender  and  loving  care  of  our  children.  Alas  ! 
the  pursuit  of  wealth  is  ever  attended  with  vicissitudes, 
and  children  do  not  always  survive  their  parents,  or,  if 
they  do,  sometimes  want  of  means,  or  cold  neglect,  or 
(worse  than  all)  ingratitude  steps  in,  and  then  the  old  man 
is  lonely  indeed.  For  when  he  has  arrived  at  a  certain 


HOMES   FOR   OLD   MEN.  265 

age,  rarely  does  lie  carry  with  him  the  friends  of  his  youth, 
and  few  old  men  there  are  who  do  not  yearn  for  the  society 
of  old  companions. 

Provide,  then,  an  asylum  for  old  men,  ye  that  are  able 
to  do  it,  that  the  example  so  set  may  enable  you  to  be 
comforted,  perchance,  in  like  manner  when  length  of  years 
and  feebleness  and  privations  overtake  you. 

The  late  Robert  Minturn  had  a  vague  idea  floating  in 
his  mind  to  found  such  an  asylum.  It  never  took  any 
definite  shape,  unfortunately,  before  death  removed  this 
estimable  gentleman  from  our  midst.  He  owned  about 
eleven  acres  of  ground  on  Ward's  Island,  which,  had  he 
lived,  he  intended  to  devote  to  this  charitable  object,  and, 
by  his  will,  he  left  it  to  St.  Luke's  Hospital  for  that  pur 
pose.  The  occupation  of  the  island  by  the  numerous 
hospitals  (among  which  I  may  mention  an  insane  hospital 
of  two  hundred  and  fifty  patients)  of  the  Commissioners 
of  Emigration,  and  those  under  the  care  of  the  Commis 
sioners  of  Charity  and  Correction,  make  this  otherwise 
beautiful  spot  manifestly  unfit  for  the  purpose.  But  it  is 
to  be  hoped  that  before  long  the  project  will  become  prac 
ticable.  The  increasing  want  of  the  commissioners  of  the 
above-named  charities  will  probably  lead  to  the  purchase 
of  these  eleven  acres  by  them,  and  the  proceeds  can  be 
applied  to  aid  in  establishing  a  home  for  old  men. 

There  are  already  asylums  for  aged  and  indigent  females, 
under  the  care  of  benevolent  ladies.  Why  not  for  old 
men  also?  It  seems  to  me,  that,  besides  the  Minturn 
asylum,  a  fund  might  be  established  to  found  a  home  for 
the  veterans  of  the  printing  fraternity.  In  a  future  num 
ber  we  shall  discuss  this  suggestion. 


